Rosebushes
by One Fine Wire
Summary: It only takes one revelation to change everything.
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

**I**

In Jim Halpert's opinion, "Casino Night" was the lamest theme for the high school prom. The prom was being held in the school gym because the school wanted to save money. The gym was decorated with tacky orange and gold streamers and balloons. Casino games, from Blackjack to roulette were in every corner of the gym. He had chosen to stay away from the refreshment table after hearing loud complaints from Stanley Hudson and Oscar Nunez about the lack of fine food, and in Stanley's case, pretzels.

Jim felt out of place without a date, having turned down several offers, including one from a red-haired peppy cheerleader, Katy, who ended up going with one of the football players, and another one from Karen Filipelli, a member of the Future Business Leaders of America. Tonight, her arm was around Andy Bernard, who sung in the choir. Both girls glared daggers at Jim, attempting to tell him with their eyes that they were unsatisfied with their prom dates. Katy and Karen were the least of his concerns, however, as he watched his best friend, Pam Beesly, dance with her boyfriend of three years, Roy Anderson.

Pam looked stunning in her light blue dress, which fell to her knees and accentuated her delicate shoulders nicely. Her light auburn hair was pulled back loosely, styled in soft curls. Jim had wished several times that he was the one Pam fell in love with. Tonight, she couldn't seem to keep her eyes off of Roy, which made Jim jealous, especially since Pam complained to him on a daily basis about how Roy was always mean to her, putting her down, being possessive of her, and ridiculing her artwork. Thinking about it made Jim angry. He never understood why Pam would stay with someone who was so horrible to her.

"Isn't this romantic?" a dreamy, romantic voice asked aloud, interrupting Jim's thoughts.

Jim turned around to find Kelly Kapoor, a girl in his history class, with her arms around Ryan Howard, with whom Jim had pre – Calculus. Ryan was blushing furiously, most likely due to his embarrassment of not only being seen with Kelly, but also having to wear a hot – pink tie to match Kelly's dress. He mouthed the words, _"Help me!"_ to Jim.

Jim shook his head good – naturedly and watched as Michael Scott, from his Drama class, attempted to show his date Carol Stills a good time, while warding off the flirtatious pleas of Jan Levison, whose date, Larry Gould, had left her for the captain of the dance team. Michael was failing miserably at both tasks. Toby Flenderson, the junior class president, walked by with his date. Michael saw him and screamed, "I hate _so much_ about the things that you choose to be!" Jim figured that Michael's jealously over Toby winning the class election in September still hadn't subsided.

"Hey!" Jim looked up and saw Pam. "Having fun?"

"Yeah," Jim answered quietly.

"Want to play Poker?" Pam asked eagerly. "I bet I can steal _all_ your chips by the third round!"

"You're on, Beesly!" Jim retorted playfully as he got up from where he was sitting, tripped, and fell flat on his face.

"Are you okay?" Pam asked.

"Fine," Jim replied hastily, getting up from off the ground.

"You've been tripping a lot lately," Pam said. Jim shrugged. At the last basketball game, he had taken a really bad fall. He had been taking a lot of those lately. The two of them made their way toward the poker table, where their fellow classmate, Kevin Malone, was distributing the cards.

Jim picked up his cards and watched them slip out of his hands. It amazed Jim how he never had a firm grip on things anymore, how, whenever he would pick something up, it would just fall out of his hands. Jim gathered his cards again quickly, trying to ignore the stares of the people around him, instead, focusing his attention on how Kevin had supposedly won several Poker tournaments, despite his young age.

Before the game started, Pam smiled at Jim and gave him a wink.

"What was that for?" he said.

"That's my 'I'm going to beat you' look," Pam bantered, her eyes twinkling.

The game was played uneventfully, with the exception of Dwight Schrute, Jim's obnoxious and overbearing lab partner in Chemistry, kiss his girlfriend, Angela Martin, on the cheek, who then slapped him in return. When Toby won the game and succeeded in taking away all of Michael's chips, Michael left the table in a huff, knocking all of Toby's chips off while doing so.

Pam turned to Jim and asked, "Want to get some fresh air?"

"Sure," Jim answered. The two of them were walking toward the exit, when Creed Bratton from Psychology class bumped into Jim while making way with the ice sculpture of a swan that was on the refreshment table. The principal, Mr. Brown, was chasing after him, with the aid of the elderly assistant principal, Mr. Dunder. Jim fell yet again.

"Maybe you should have this checked by a doctor," Pam suggested as she helped Jim up.

Jim shrugged. The two of them continued walking, catching sight of Phyllis Lapin and Bob Vance making out behind a bush. Jim and Pam left the scene quickly, laughing while doing so. Roy's truck pulled up, and stopped beside Jim and Pam.

"Hey Pammy, Halpert!" he cried. "Meredith Palmer's having a _great_ party at her house right now! There's going to be lots of beer! You should come, Pammy!"

"No thanks, Roy," Pam said, rolling her eyes.

"You're missing out," Roy said. "Keep an eye on her, okay, Halpert?" Jim nodded, watching Roy drive off into the distance.

"Want to play more Poker?" Pam suggested, "and watch me steal more of your chips?"

Jim loosened his tie. "Listen, Pam…"

"Scared of losing?" Pam joked, with a smile on her face.

"No," said Jim. "It's just that… that… I'm in _love_ with you."

"_What?"_ Pam looked confused.

"I know the timing's not great," Jim said, "but I felt that you needed to know, is all."

"Why _now_?" Pam demanded. "You know I've had a boyfriend for _three years,_ you know I _can't_."

Jim breathed. "Pam, I needed you to know… because I'm _sick._ Really sick."

"You'll get better in a few days, I'm sure," Pam said coolly, wondering why Jim would bring up love and sickness into the same conversation. He wasn't that kind of guy.

Jim shook his head and let a single tear fall. "Pam, I have Lou Gehrig's Disease," he said, as he brushed the tear away from his eye.

He walked away before Pam could reply. Her mouth hung open in complete shock.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

**I**

Pam stood there, staring into the night in disbelief. She could not comprehend the fact that _Jim_, her _best friend _Jim, _her_ Jim, was dying, despite all the signs being there.

Her grandfather, her mother's father, had died of Lou Gehrig's Disease three years previous, and had exhibited all the early signs of the disease, like Jim had tonight, and even earlier. In fact, Jim's frequent falls had begun the previous year, but Pam had always ignored them, assuming that Jim had tripped over a crack on the sidewalk or some other thing; and also, they didn't happen as often as they did now.

It was five months ago, when Jim's falls happened more often, and when he it seemed that random, simple objects would just slip out of his grasp. During basketball season, Pam would watch Jim try to dribble the ball up and down the court, only to trip several times. He would drop his books in the hallway, and when he would go to Chile's with her, Roy and his friend Darryl from the football team, Jim could never seem to get the ketchup bottle open.

Pam felt remorseful, for it was during this time that the thought of there being something wrong came into her mind. She always pushed the thought away, though, thinking; _"Only old people get Lou Gehrig's Disease,_ _not young, healthy basketball players like Jim."_She became even more upset at the fact that even if she had said something, nothing could be done anyway.

She reached into her clutch and checked the time on her phone. It was eleven – thirty. The dance would be ending soon, and her only ride home was Jim. She wondered if Jim would be willing to take her home after the way she had acted toward him.

"That's what you get for pushing away everyone except one person," Pam sighed to herself. "You get a boyfriend and you don't think you need anybody else… you're wrong, Pam."

She dialed Jim's cell phone number and hesitated before finally pushing the "send" button. When she finally did, the phone dialed three times before Jim answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi Jim, its me, Pam."

"Oh."

"Hi."

"Hey."

"Hey, uh…" Pam took a deep breath, fully preparing to accept the fact that she'd probably need to spend the night in the school gym. "Can I have a ride home?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Meet me at my car."

"Thanks, Jim."

Pam rushed over to Jim's car, and old blue Honda from 1984. He was leaning against the car door, holding the door opener with his left hand.

"Did you have fun at the dance?" Jim said nervously, looking her in the eye.

"Yeah, it was fun," Pam answered quickly.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah." Jim hopped into the driver's seat, reached over to Pam's side and unlocked the door. Pam got in and buckled her seatbelt. Jim started the car, backed out of the parking space and drove. "What was your favorite part of the dance?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Um, the decorations, I guess," Pam replied hastily.

Jim nodded and continued to drive in silence. Pam opened her mouth several times and attempted to start a conversation with Jim, but whenever she looked at her best friend, the thought of his current struggle and the fact that she had added to it, albeit unintentionally, entered her mind and brought her to a loss for words.

At last, Pam was home. Jim pulled up to the front of her house and asked, "Want me to walk you up?"

Pam shook her head as she reached over to open the car door. She stopped and turned to Jim.

"Jim…" she trailed off. "I'm sorry. About tonight."

Jim only turned to her and said, "Take care of yourself, Beesly."

Pam got out of the car and watched as Jim turned his car around and pulled into the driveway of his house, which was right across the street from Pam, and had been since they were just a few days old. She watched him get out of his car and lock it. Pam put her arm up in the air to give Jim a wave, but he didn't seem to have noticed her. She watched as Jim walked into his house before going into her own.

When she opened the door, her mother was in the family room, sitting on the couch reading a magazine. "Hello, Pamela," she said as she set the magazine down on the coffee table and turned to look at her daughter.

"Hello, Mom," Pam mumbled uneasily. Pam knew that when her mother was in the family room waiting for her to return home, that something was up.

"So Pam," her mother said, "would you care to tell me why it was Jim, and not that 'darling' boyfriend of yours who brought you home tonight?"

For the second time that night, Pam was left dumbfounded.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

**I**

"Mom," Pam groaned despairingly. "_Really_. You're making this bigger than it needs to be. Roy wanted to go to some stupid party and I didn't. That's it."

Mrs. Beesly shook her head and sighed. "Sit," she said, placing her hand on the empty seat of the couch. Pam willingly sat and let herself curl up next to her mother. Mrs. Beesly put her arm around Pam and said, "I can't believe Roy didn't have the decency to bring you home from the dance, let alone ask you for your opinion."

"Mom, it's nothing," Pam muttered, even though it really _was_ something. Ever since she started dating Roy in the eighth grade, her parents had frequently given her a round of "break – up" talks. At first, Pam ignored them, but as she got older, she had come to see that her parents loved her and only wanted what was best for her. She hated to admit it, but at times she found herself considering the possibility that maybe her parents were right about Roy. Most of the time, though, Pam always convinced herself that _they_ were the ones who were wrong.

"Your father and I _hate_ how he walks all over you," Mrs. Beesly remarked. "When you first started dating him, your father couldn't get over the fact that if you married that boy your name would become," she crinkled her nose in disgust, "_Pamela Anderson_."

Pam laughed weakly. The thought had never occurred to her before, but now that her mother had said it, she, too, found the fact repulsive. Once again, however, Pam found herself shaking the thought off. Instead, she became baffled by her mother's motives of starting yet _anothe_r break – up talk, especially right after Prom, and at such a late hour.

"Don't you think I've had enough of these break – up talks to last me a lifetime?" Pam grumbled.

"Pam, I just want you to know what's important."

"I know what's important Mom," Pam said.

"I hope you're sure about that, Pamela," Mrs. Beesly cautioned. "Time isn't exactly on your side right now."

Pam pulled away from her mother as a feeling of panic came to her. "_What are you implying?_" she questioned suspiciously. The thought came to her; "this doesn't have anything to do with _Jim_, does it?"

"He's very sick right now," Mrs. Beesly told her, "and he isn't going to get any better."

"How do you know this?" Pam demanded. She stood up from her place on the couch and faced her mother. "How long have you known?"

"Since last week," her mother replied. "I found out the day Jim was diagnosed. His mother called me in hysterics; she was _beyond_ devastated. I remember feeling that way when Grandpa first got sick. But the loss that we faced with Grandpa will be _nothing_ compared to the loss the Halpert's will."

"You've known since _last week_?" Pam spat. "My _best friend_ has a… a _fatal disease_, and you didn't _tell_ me?"

"I wanted to tell you Pam, believe me, I did," her mother said. "I was going to tell you that very day, but then you came home, gushing about how you had finally found a Prom dress. You were so excited, and I didn't want to ruin your night. I know I should've told you sooner, but… I also feel that it's better that you heard it from Jim than from me. I'm sure Jim wanted to be the one to tell you. "

Pam was now on the verge of tears. Her entire body was shaking. _How could she keep this from me?_ Pam thought angrily. "My _best friend_," she trembled, "my _best friend_… I can't believe you…_Do you like keeping secrets from your own daughter_?"

"_Pamela_!"

"I guess that goes to show you know what's important!" Pam snarled, turning on her heel and into her room. "Keeping things from your daughter is a real priority for you, isn't it?"


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

**I**

"_Whoa_."

Jim's twenty – three year old brother, Jared, home from graduate school at George Washington University for the first time, stared at him with his small, chocolate eyes from the large, beige recliner he was sitting in from across the room. He was handsome, Jim noted, with a muscular build and a golden tan, wearing a fitted blue shirt and khaki shorts, and neatly styled dark brown hair. He could be out doing whatever he wanted on a nice, May evening, but he chose to be home with his younger brother, and for that, Jim was grateful…_especially_ tonight.

"You revealed your feelings for her _and_ told her about your Lou Gehrig's Disease in _one_ night?"

"She's my best friend," Jim yawned, while he shifted from his stomach onto his side on the couch where he was resting. "She had the right to know."

"You probably shouldn't have told her both your dilemmas at once, Little Bro," Jared advised. "Pam must've freaked out when you told her that you love her, since she has a boyfriend, and now she's probably worried sick about you because she knows that you have Lou Gehrig's Disease."

"Her grandpa had it," Jim explained. "I thought she would understand."

"She's scared," Jared said slowly, "because she knows what the nature of your illness is after watching her grandpa cope with it."

"Pam, scared for _me_?" Jim asked, baffled. "If anything, she should be scared of Roy Anderson."

Jared rolled his eyes. "Of course she's scared, Jim," he said exasperatedly. "You're her best friend. She'll always want to be aware of your well – being. In this case, you've completely overwhelmed her."

"I figured I probably would," Jim replied softly. "I was thinking about it last night… and I was thinking that _maybe_ I shouldn't have told her both things at the same time…but it's the eleventh hour for me."

"I know, Jim, but remember what the doctor said?"

"That I should try to live life as normal as possible before the more obvious symptoms appear," Jim recited monotonously. "I don't see what the use is. Everyone at school knows that I can't hold onto anything without letting it fall, or that I trip everywhere I go. My life isn't exactly _normal_ anymore. Do I have to pretend that everything's okay until I have to come to school in a wheelchair?"

When Jim first found out how sick he truly was, the family doctor, Doctor Mifflin couldn't have stressed enough how important it was for Jim to try to stick to his regular routine for as long as possible. His parents stressed it as well, but Jim wondered if it was because they wanted to maintain as much normalcy as possible, or if it was because they didn't want to admit the obvious. His brother, at least, had been real about it. He hoped that Pam would be too, a hope that had been dashed.

"Honestly, Jim," Jared said in an no – nonsense voice, "Doctor Mifflin just wants you to give it more time before you tell people."

"How much?" Jim inquired. "He gave me eighteen months at the most."

His brother's mouth became a straight, thin line. "Eighteen months… damn it, Jim."

Jim bit his lip. "Jared?" he asked in a small voice, the same voice he had used when he was younger and wanted to join his brother in all his activities. Usually, Jared would say no, but this time, he turned to Jim and stared blankly at him.

"_Jim_…"

"What am I going to do?"

A wane smile came to Jared's mouth, and his eyes took hold of a strange sort of anguish. "Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today."

"James Dean said that, didn't he?"

Jared nodded. His cheeks were wet.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

**I**

It was one – fifteen in the afternoon when the sunlight streamed into Pam's bedroom, waking her up. She tried to go back to bed, but she had trouble falling back asleep. Pam woke up grudgingly and threw her hair into a loose ponytail and dressed in a burgundy short – sleeved turtleneck and a pair of dark washed jeans. She noticed her sketchbook opened on her desk, and remembered that Roy had asked her to do a drawing of him. Normally, Pam enjoyed drawing, but at the moment, it was the last thing she wanted to do. However, Pam had started the drawing a month ago and hadn't gotten very far on it, and Roy was getting impatient. She picked up her sketchbook and a pencil and walked out to the kitchen.

Pam set her sketchbook and pencil at the kitchen table and fixed herself a breakfast of pancakes with maple syrup and a bowl of strawberries. She returned to the kitchen table, set her breakfast down and resumed her drawing. The only thing Pam had drawn was the basic shape of Roy's head, and his shoulders. She found herself erasing parts of her drawing and modifying it, though she didn't know what was bringing herself to do so. She then decided to start on Roy's eyes – small, blue and drooped at the corners, with a vacant look inside them. She drew his eyes, finished, and looked to survey her look.

These eyes looked nothing like Roy's. Instead, they were large and green, like the branches of a Christmas tree, with longish eyelashes, possessing an earnest expression. Unintentionally, Pam ended up drawing a tear coming down from the right eye. She erased it irritably and attempted to move onto Roy's hair – short, blunt and mouse brown, but instead ended up drawing the thick, stubbornly messy, brass colored hair of a dying young man.

"_Forget it_!" Pam screamed as she threw her sketchbook across the table and watched it fall to the ground. She began eating her strawberries, violently stabbing them with her fork, not concentrating on anything else.

"You dropped your sketchbook, Pam," Mrs. Beesly said quietly.

Pam ignored her mother, who was now sitting at the table next to her daughter, holding Pam's sketchbook open to the drawing she had been previously working on. When Pam finally looked up, she noticed that her mother had a look of genuine concern on her face. "This is a nice drawing," her mother remarked, trying to get a conversation started. "Whose it supposed to be?"

"Roy," Pam snapped as she viciously cut a piece of pancake and stabbed it with her fork. "It's not finished yet."

"I see," Mrs. Beesly said. "This drawing doesn't look like Roy, though. It looks more like – "

"_Jim_."

"Pam, I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you about Jim," Mrs. Beesly said apologetically, "but – "

"Has anyone ever _kept_ important information from you, or _lied_ to you?" Pam cut off vehemently.

"Well, yes…" her mother answered slowly. "You have, Pamela. Like on those nights where I just knew that Roy had done something to hurt you, and you wouldn't say anything to me about it."

"That's nothing compared to – "

Mrs. Beesly held up her hand. "I _know_, Pam. I'm sorry if you felt that I kept something important from you. _Truly_. But really, who would you rather have told you?

Pam sighed in resignation. "Jim," she whispered.

"I figured you would."

There was a knock on the door. "I wonder who that could be," Pam said. She got up from her place at the kitchen table and went to open the front door.

When she opened it, a young man, who was around six foot three, dressed in a black shirt and khaki shorts, was standing in front of her. He had messy brass hair, and those Christmas tree eyes she couldn't get out of her head. Pam couldn't believe that this person was standing in front of her.

Pam gasped. "_J – Jim_?"


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

**I**

Jim exhaled. "Pam," he said, while looking her over. She looked just as, if not more beautiful than she did at Prom. "You uh… left your clutch in my car last night." He held it up and gave it back to her, his hands fumbling while doing so.

Pam gave Jim a small, tentative smile and responded, "Thanks for returning this to me."

"Your wel – "

"James? James, is that you?" Mrs. Beesly hollered from the back of the house.

Jim opened his mouth to respond, but instead found himself facing Mrs. Beesly, who was now standing next to her daughter. "Why don't you come in?"

Pam and her mother stepped away from the entrance to let Jim inside. He stepped into Pam's house slowly, his legs stiffening while doing so.

"How are you feeling, James?" Mrs. Beesly inquired, while motioning for Jim to have a seat.

"Pretty good, actually," Jim answered, as he eased himself onto the couch. "Some days are better than others."

Mrs. Beesly gave Jim a morose smile, or at least tried to. Jim couldn't tell. "Well, I'm glad that today's been a good day," she said, attempting to sound optimistic. "Can I get you anything?"

Jim stretched his arms, and attempted to stretch his fingers as well, but to no avail. He cleared his throat and said, "No, I'm fine. Thank you, though." Jim looked to the left and noticed Pam standing in the corner, looking nervous.

Pam's mother turned to her daughter and then back to Jim and said, "I'll leave you two alone," before shuffling into the back hallway and shutting the door behind her.

Pam stepped from the corner timidly and sat in the rocking chair next to Jim.

"Thanks again," she remarked, as she held up her clutch.

Jim scratched his head and nodded. "You're welcome…" His voice trailed off, leaving the two best friends, who could once strike up a conversation about anything, from the quirky projects Michael made in Pam's graphic design class to Andy's ring tone of the week, now sat in a stiff, awkward silence. Jim breathed, trying to figure out what to say, but the penetrating silence in the air choked him and rendered him speechless yet again.

"P – Pam," he coughed.

Pam, whose eyes were darting around the room aimlessly, turned to stare at Jim.

"You know, this wasn't the… uh… the only reason why I came over here…" Jim mumbled. Pam only continued to stare at him.

"Look, Pam, I came over to apologize for overwhelming you. It wasn't smart of me to tell you both things at once. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

"I'm glad you did, though," Pam admitted, her voice sounding soft. "Time isn't exactly…"

"Being particularly kind to us," Jim finished. He took a slow, haggard breath. He noticed Pam's look of concern on her face and continued, "Listen… the doctor told me that I have eighteen months left."

"Oh, Jim…"

"So, you'd understand if there are things that I've been holding off that I want, and need, to get done?"

"Yeah."

"Well," Jim said, "There's something that I've wanted to do for a… a long time now, and I couldn't exactly find the time, let alone…" He sighed. "I've really wanted to do this, but there was no way I could. But now, I know it needs to happen. You understand, right?"

"Yeah," Pam replied curiously. "Jim, what is it that you want to do?"

"_This_." Jim rose from his place on the couch and walked over to where Pam was sitting. He bent down to her eye level, so that he was staring at her dark, almond shaped eyes. He caressed her soft skin gently and gave her a delicate kiss on her lips.

To his joy, Pam put her arms around his neck and grabbed his thick wavy hair. Holding on, she kissed him back.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

**I**

Jim was euphoric, kissing the girl of his dreams. He thrust his body closer to hers, and continued to kiss her passionately, taking in the beauty of her face, and her scent – roses, with a small twinge of honey. Jim had Pam's face cupped in his hands, and he yearned to hold on so desperately, however, he found himself being pulled away from Pam as she let go of his hair and pulled her arms away from his back. She was still sitting in the rocking chair, and Jim was now standing. The two of them stared at the other, both in awe, and chagrin, not really believing what had just occurred.

"I've wanted that… for a long time," Jim confessed.

Pam stood up and mumbled, "Jim, I have a boyfriend…"

"I know," Jim responded. He eyed Pam, and noticed a stray curl on her face. He took it and put it softly behind her ear. "Look, don't change things between the two of you because of me."

"Jim, I –"

"See you, Beesly," Jim said rapidly, as he bolted for the door.

He was now outside, with no place, really, to go. He couldn't return to the Beesly's house after the kiss; as much as he wanted it, there was no way that he could, or should, force Pam to leave Roy because of him – not now, not in the future, or the past, not in health or illness… Jim also didn't want to return home to an empty house. Jared had taken the Honda and was meeting one of his college friends down in Pittsburgh, and his parents had gone out for a late lunch.

He chose to turn right and to take a walk. Jim stopped and breathed in the springtime air – the scent of lilacs, tulips and other various flowers and plants. Jim stared up at the trees, with leafy green treetops, which had never looked so pristine and healthy. He had also never truly noticed how breathtaking a spring day could be. Usually, Jim had dismissed the few spring days that Scranton received with nonchalance, knowing that another cloudy day would come anyway. But now…

He continued to bask in the sun, his eyes closed. Visions of Pam, and of Prom, danced through his mind. Somewhere, the elderly Doctor Mifflin came into the mix, staring at Jim sadly and saying, "I'm sorry, son, but you have Lou Gehrig's Disease…"

He saw his mother breaking down in Doctor Mifflin's office, his father, later that night, staring at him dismally, and then, when Jim tried to say something, his father only turned away, and when he asked his mother what his dad was doing, she said, "Mourning." Jared, then, gave him those words of wisdom, "Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today." Jim had certainly done that today, at least.

When he came to, his face felt hot and sticky. He brushed the sweat, or possible tears, off his face and continued walking. He stumbled across a rosebush with several bright, yellow roses… his mother's favorite… and _Pam's_.

Without thinking, Jim plucked a rose off the bush and walked to John Dickson Park, the place where he used to go as a child. Sometimes, Pam would accompany him, and the two of them would play games such as tag and hide and seek, and would race each other from the swing set to the yellow slide. On the grassy knoll next to the playground, the two of them would cloud watch. As the two of them grew older, they would continue their trips to the park; only once they began middle school, Jim and Pam left the playground behind and would look up at the sky together, talking about their hopes and dreams for the future. Pam wanted to be an artist, and always remained adamant in her ambition, while Jim would always be changing his mind. In the middle of eighth grade, when Pam began dating Roy, the trips to the park became less and less frequent. Soon, Jim was fighting for time with his best friend; he could never get alone time with her, and whenever he did do something with Pam, Roy would always come along. Eventually, the trips to the park had ceased.

He laid down on the knoll, and with an odd sort of sadness, noticed how much the park had changed since he was a boy.

The swing set was now decrypt, its handles rusting and the seats sagging. The yellow slide was now covered with crude graffiti symbols and words in green and black spray paint. There had once been an aqua blue slide, but it was now gone. The bright red paint on the monkey bars was now chipped, revealing only gray metal. The hopscotch courts were now faded, and the carousel swung to and fro, making a creaky, jerking noise while doing so. Jim was the only person at the park, and the houses across the street from the park appeared to be empty. Jim felt like he was in a ghost town.

He inhaled and exhaled; he inhaled and exhaled again. He had been doing that a lot lately, perhaps because he realized that there weren't too many breaths left for him. Jim wanted to savor each breath of life.

As he stared up into the sky, Jim found it unfathomable that he would soon be leaving this world, his family, Pam… everything that he had ever known, would soon be taken away from him. Jim closed his eyes again and held tight to the rose he was holding. How could he handle it? Sure, his family, and Pam, knew about his illness, knew that things were only going to get worse, but how would everyone else handle it? Jim didn't want to contemplate having to face anyone when they found out… when he would have to tell them before he let his disease do the talking.

His left hand began aching. Still laying on the ground, he turned his head to the right and noticed the vivid yellow rose, still clutched tightly in his hand. He sat up and let go of it, taking note of the blood on his hand as a result of the thorns piecing into his skin.

He picked up the rose again, twirling it in his hand.

"Roses," he said aloud. "I wonder if there are rosebushes in heaven."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

**I**

It was a muggy June day, and also the last day of school. Pam had just finished turning her books into the library and had put the remaining items from her locker – a miniature shelf, a mirror, and a pencil case, into a large brown bag. She shut her locker, turned around and came face to face with Michael Scott from her Graphic Design class: short, with neatly slicked back black hair, hazel eyes and a sickening smile on his face. He was dressed in a black pinstriped suit and had on a dark red bow tie to match.

"Pamalot Spamalot!" he giggled.

"What do you want, Michael?" Pam asked darkly as she bent down to pick up her bag. "Celebrating an occasion? Perhaps the last day of school?" Everybody who either went, or taught at Scranton High School knew that Michael hated attending school with a passion. He'd probably like it better if Toby hadn't won both the junior class election and the ASB President election that had just occurred against Michael by a landslide.

"Yeah, I'm celebrating the last day of school," Michael said, attempting to appear cavalier. "Sign my yearbook?" He held it up to Pam, looking desperate while doing so.

"Sure," Pam said exasperatedly. She opened his yearbook, where the only signature he had was from their Graphic Design teacher, Mr. Wallace, who had told Michael to _"Have a good summer, and keep the __**clean **__creative juices flowing."_

Pam chuckled at Mr. Wallace's note and scrawled a quick note before handing Michael's yearbook back to him. To her horror, Michael had plunged into Pam's bag and was now signing her yearbook.

"Give it back, Michael!" Pam ordered sternly.

"Here you go, Pam-elama-ding-dong," Michael said as he returned Pam's yearbook to her. "Do you want to see what I wrote?"

Pam rolled her eyes and snapped, "Just go away," but not before throwing Michael's yearbook at him. She opened her yearbook to see what sort of damage Michael had written inside. Pam gaped at his entry:

_Me so horny. Me love you long time. Have a horny summer. Love, Michael. P.S.: Boobs._

Pam scowled at Michael coldly as he continued to laugh obnoxiously. She didn't know which was worse – the comment Michael had written, or Kevin's, where he had given her his phone number and had written, _Call me when you change a few things._

Pam picked up her bag and began walking to her last class of the day, A.P. Studio Art. The final exam for that class, which had been to submit a portfolio of the year's work to the A.P. Studio Art Panel, plus one piece of work to the annual art contest held at Princeton University, had been finished and turned in shortly after Prom. A few days previous, Pam had received a notification in the mail informing her that the panel had given her portfolio a score of 196 out of 200. Not only was Pam's portfolio score the highest ranked in her class of sixteen students, but she would also receive college credit for her work. Because the final for this class had already been completed a month ago, the class would be watching a movie and eating pizza instead of taking a test. Pam smiled, for this was exactly what she needed after sitting through two grueling exams – Advanced Literature and Composition, and Algebra II.

She was the last to walk into the class, where the movie had already started. Pam set her bag and yearbook down at her desk and was about to grab a slice of pizza when her teacher, Ms. Turner, motioned for her to come to her desk.

Pam approached Ms. Turner's desk, not knowing what to expect, or what Ms. Turner was going to say to her. "Pam, you remember submitting this to the Princeton University Art Contest, correct?" She handed Pam the piece she had submitted – her sketch of Jim, which was originally intended to be Roy. Pam breathed in and surveyed her work, brushing the piece smoothly with her fingers. After Jim left that day, after "the kiss," Pam had finished the drawing, not really knowing what she was doing. After scanning it into the computer, Pam had stayed up into the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning, smoothing the rough edges with Adobe Photoshop. She also used it colored his hair, face and skin, and to bring those eyes, which seemed to always be looking into her, those eyes which she couldn't look away from, to life.

Pam brought the drawing with her to school the following Monday, but once again, didn't know why. She found herself looking at it constantly. When she came to A.P. Studio Art that day, when the final portfolio was due, she finally remembered the art contest. At the spur of the moment, Pam ended up submitting her drawing of Jim.

"Yes, I remember," Pam answered, as she looked over her drawing. Looking at it was almost scary for her, for she had drawn Jim on Prom night, right after he had declared his love for her, and told her about his illness. Looking at the drawing was like revisiting the moment.

"It's a beautiful piece of work," Ms. Turner complimented, "So it's no surprise that it won third place."

"It did!" Pam exclaimed.

"Yes," Ms. Turner smiled. "The first and second place winners were art students who are currently enrolled in college. You should be _very_ proud of yourself. I am."

"Thank you… thank you so much," Pam said, flattered.

"Your Graphic Design teacher, Mr. Wallace and I, both agree that you've done some marvelous work in these two classes. In fact, Mr. Wallace has actually recommended you for his A.P. Graphic Design class for next year."

Pam nodded. "I'm taking it."

"Are you also taking the A.P. Art History class you signed up for?"

"Of course I am!" Pam replied. "You know how passionate I am about art, Ms. Turner!"

Ms. Turner nodded. "Pam, you know that placing in the art contest comes with a prize, one that I think will spike your passion ever further."

"Really? What is it?"

"The third place prize is a week long stay at Princeton University during their annual art convention." Ms. Turner handed Pam a brochure and continued, "It's August 5 – 10, and you'll get the opportunity to attend workshops and to hear some of the greatest modern artists in the world speak. There will be art classes and exhibits, and if you wish, you will have the opportunity to show some of these artists your work, and get one – on – one tutoring with them. Princeton will pay for your room and board for the week, but you'll have to figure out how to get there. It's _a great_ opportunity, Pam. It's definitely not one to pass up."

Pam looked over the brochure and said, "It looks like an _amazing_ opportunity, Ms. Turner, but I don't think – "

"Why not Pam?" Ms. Turner inquired. "If you don't go, you'll always wonder, _what if?_ Besides, I never would have submitted your piece to the contest, nor would I be recommending that you attend this convention if I didn't think you had a strong chance in having an art career. I believe that you can have a very promising career in this field. I really do."

"Really?"

"I do, Pam. Will you think about it?"

Pam looked at the brochure again. The convention really did look like a lot of fun; and the opportunity to work with some of the world's best modern artists was a rare opportunity. She looked into Ms. Turner's eyes and said firmly, "I'll think about it."

The bell rang. The lights turned on, and the rest of the art class was in a hubbub, gathering their things and rushing out of the classroom. Pam gave Ms. Turner one last smile before going to her desk to get her bag and her yearbook.

"Have a wonderful summer, Pam," Ms. Turner said.

"You as well," Pam replied, "and I'll think about the convention, I promise!"

Pam walked out of the class, her mood significantly improved from where it had been in the morning. She was excited to get home, to tell her parents, Jim and Roy about this opportunity that hat presented itself to her.

She _especially_ yearned to tell Jim. After "the kiss," the two of them had steered clear of the other, with the exception of saying a haste "hello," to the other in the school hallway. She had attempted to see him, but had found that Jim would get to school early, and stay late, to study for his finals. Pam didn't seem why – Jim was smart and got some of the best grades in school, but he was unmotivated and hated to study. Pam hated to think that Jim was now absorbed in his studies, to the near point of complete isolation, because of her. She came to find that she missed being with him.

She went to her locker to see if she had forgotten anything. To her pleasure, she hadn't. She shut her locker for the last time and turned around, only to let her belongings fall down in horror.

She gasped at the sight in front of her.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

**I**

Pam exhaled. "_Oh my gosh_! _Jim_!"

She was now kneeling down and holding the hand of an unconscious Jim, who seemed to have tripped and hit his head on the concrete bench to his left. He was sprawled out on his stomach, his book bag, binder, and several of his papers scattered about all around him. His eyes were closed, and the left side of his face had a deep gash on it, and was dripping blood, which was flowing down his face, almost like tears. With the exception of the deep gash in his head, Jim looked as though he was sleeping peacefully, a thought that Pam found disheartening.

"Jim, wake up, _please_ wake up!" Pam begged, as she squeezed Jim's hand tightly. She let go of his hand and squeezed his shoulders, then his back, and reverted back to holding his hand. "_Come __**on**__, Jim, please_…"

Pam heard a low, deep groan. Jim raised his head and coughed. "P – Pam?" He noticed that two of them were holding hands, and he blushed deeply.

"Thank God!" Pam cried, breathing a sigh of relief. She turned to Jim and said, "Let me help you up." Still holding his hand, she took hold of his back, eased him up and helped him sit on the bench. "I'll gather your things," she told him.

Pam gathered all of Jim's papers and stacked them neatly before putting them inside his binder. She grabbed his book bag and put that, as well as his binder, next to him on the bench before getting her own belongings from where she had dropped them. She turned to Jim and asked, "Are you okay?"

Jim put his hand to where the gash on his head was. "Yeah," he breathed.

Pam was about to reply when she noticed Jim's hand now covered in blood.

"Oh, gosh!" she exclaimed. Pam hastily pulled the bandana she had been using as a ponytail holder and gave it to Jim. "Use this to apply pressure to your wound."

Jim nodded and wiped his face with the bandana before placing it on his wound. "It looks like you'll need to drive me home until my wounds stops bleeding," he mumbled. "My keys are in the front pocket of my book bag."

Pam nodded and reached for Jim's keys. While doing so, she noticed his yearbook inside of his book bag.

"You can sign my yearbook if you want to," Jim informed Pam.

"Okay," Pam said quietly. "Same to you." Once she got the keys, she looked at Jim and asked, "Ready to go?"

Jim nodded and stood up, grabbing his binder with his free hand. "Can you grab my book bag too, if it's not too much hassle?"

Pam nodded and reached for Jim's book bag, which she slung over her left shoulder. "Ready to go?" she asked, surveying him. Jim did not look good; his face seemed to have lost some color to it, and he had dark bags under his eyes. He also looked slimmer. Pam didn't know if Jim's appearance was attributed to all the time he had put into his final exams, or if Jim's illness was finally starting to take a toll on him in other ways aside from falling over and dropping things. Pam found this thought to be disturbing to her. Before she could think about it any further, Jim nodded and got up slowly from the bench.

"So… what happened?" Pam inquired.

"I… I don't know," Jim answered softly. "Do you remember me saying that I've had both good and bad days?"

Pam nodded.

"Well, today's been a pretty awful day," Jim sighed. "I was feeling _really_ tired this morning, and I had trouble concentrating on my exams. After my last class let out, I was on my way to your locker to see if you needed a ride home."

"Why?"

"Roy had seen me in the parking lot earlier before school started and mentioned to me that you'd be needing a ride since he had made plans with Darryl." Pam clenched her teeth furiously. She had put up with Roy making plans without telling her, and bailing on her at the last minute several times before, but this was the first time in which she had become _truly_ angry at Roy for doing so. She didn't know why she was angry at him now, but wondered in the back of her head if it was because Roy was too cowardly to tell Pam himself, and had instead placed it on Jim to tell her. Pam sighed. She knew that was the reason why.

"Anyway," Jim continued, "I was almost to your locker when I tripped. The last thing I remember is hearing a loud thud."

"I'm sorry," Pam said.

Jim shook his head and said, "Don't be. _I'm_ sorry that I can't drive you home." He smiled. "Let's just hope that you don't get caught by the police since you don't have your license yet. You better _be extra_ careful, Beesly."

Pam nodded and gave Jim a small smile, glad to see that some of his playfulness had returned.

When they reached Jim's car, Pam unlocked the trunk, put her things inside, and then Jim's. She got out Jim's yearbook from his book bag and switched it with her own. By the time she shut the trunk, Jim had gotten into the front seat of the car, his seatbelt buckled, patiently waiting for Pam.

Pam got into the driver's seat, started the car nervously, backed out of the parking spot and began driving.

"Did Roy tell you about his plans with Darryl?" Jim asked.

"No," Pam muttered bitterly. "He didn't say anything." She turned to Jim and asked, "Did he tell you?"

"No."

"Oh." Pam noticed that Jim was shaking his head in disgust. Changing the subject, she said, "Guess what, Halpert?"

"What?"

"I placed third in an art contest sponsored by Princeton University!"

To Pam's delight, Jim's green yes lit up and his mouth broke into a grin. "Congratulations! That's great!"

Pam smiled happily and said, "The first and second place winners were college students."

"All right, Beesly!" Jim told her enthusiastically. "Is there a prize?"

"A weeklong stay at Princeton's art convention."

"Are you gonna go?" Jim inquired. Pam turned her head and noticed Jim looking at her intently. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, and in the fact that she had placed in the art contest.

"I'm not sure, actually," Pam replied, trying to sound casual.

"Why not?"

"I'd have to pay for the transportation, and plus I have to work this summer."

"You should work until the convention starts and use the money you earned to pay for your transportation," Jim suggested. "When is it?"

"August 5 – 10," Pam answered tersely. "It's still not certain."

Pam watched as Jim rolled his eyes. "Come on, Beesly," he said, "You still have a long time to earn the transportation money, and besides, I _know_ that this is something that you want to do, I know it is! I mean, why not? What's holding you back? Surely Roy can live for a few days, right?"

"_You think so_?" Pam said icily.

"Well, yeah…"

"And what are _your_ plans for this summer, _Halpert_?" Pam spat.

Unnerved, Jim replied, "I'm spending seven weeks in Australia with my family. We're staying at my great – aunt Mabel's ranch in the Outback, and we're going to do _everything_ that the country has to offer. Then, we're off to spend three weeks in Switzerland."

"Oh," Pam said slowly, and then, an unbearable silence followed. Pam wondered why she had snapped at Jim. Was it because he was trying to get her to take a chance on something, like Ms. Turner did? Was it because he wanted to see her thriving in a different environment aside from Scranton, which had little to offer? Was it because he wanted her to get away from Roy, or was it because he was going to be gone for the summer, so he wanted Pam to be too? Pam shook those thoughts from her mind instantly. Jim wouldn't think like that. Why then, did those thoughts come to her mind? Was it because she didn't want to admit the obvious?

"I'll be returning home for the last week of summer break," Jim said.

"You'll be gone all summer, then?"

"Yeah…" Jim said, his voice trailing off.

"How come?"

"I've always wanted to go to Australia," Jim said, "and my parents let me pick the vacation. Normally our vacations aren't ten weeks long, but this is what my parents call a special occasion."

"And Switzerland?"

"Why not?" Jim countered back. He looked to the right. "Hey – we're almost to our houses. We should probably switch places so that our parents won't suspect anything. Besides, my wound's stopped bleeding." He pulled Pam's bandana from his face and stuffed it into his pocket hastily, revealing a large, visible scar on his face.

Pam nodded. She pulled into a parking space at John Dickson Park. As she switched seats with Jim and buckled her seatbelt, she noticed that Jim had a look of sadness on his face.

"Something wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"Nah." Jim started the car and began driving in silence. Soon, they had reached Pam's house. Jim parked the car and gave the keys to Pam.

"So you can get your things out of the trunk," Jim said. "And my yearbook… if you want."

Pam took the keys and headed for the back of the car, where she unlocked the trunk. She got her bag and Jim's yearbook, and slammed the trunk shut. Pam walked back to where Jim was seated and returned his keys to him.

"Thanks, Pam, for everything," Jim said.

"You're welcome," Pam replied. "Have a good time on your vacation."

Jim nodded and waved as Pam shut the car door. She walked up to the front porch and watched as Jim pulled into the driveway of his house across the street. She gave Jim a wave as he got out of the car, but once again, he did not see her. Pam held Jim's yearbook to her chest, knowing that she had to figure out what to say.

At that moment, Pam realized why she had snapped at Jim.

She realized at that moment that she could not live without Jim, and that he was preparing her for when she would have to.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

**I**

Pam sat cross – legged on her bed, with Jim's yearbook next to her and a notepad on her lap, pen in hand. She began to write.

_Dear Jim,_

_This has been a crazy year with all those pranks we played on Dwight._

Pam ripped the paper from the pad and crinkled it up, throwing it to the ground. By doing so, she added to the enormous pile of paper balls already piled at the bottom of her bed. How could she only talk about pranks when there was so much more between the two of them? She began again.

_Jim,_

_We've had a lot of ups and downs this year, but_

She ended up ripping out the sheet of paper as well and starting again. Pam and Jim had experienced a lot of great things their junior year of high school, the most monumental being when they concocted a mixture of cherry soda, caramel syrup and vanilla pudding and put the ingredients inside a test tube from the chemistry lab before school started. Handing it to Dwight, they informed him that it was a love potion originally made by Louis Pasteur, who was doing underground research on the elements of love in addition finding the cure for rabies. She and Jim had laughed as Dwight tried to coax Angela to drink the so – called potion. When she finally did, Dwight, thinking that Angela was now madly in love with him, kissed her. Angela, horrified, ended up slapping Dwight across the face, very much like she did at Prom.

As Pam reflected and laughed at that memory, and at others, she realized that she had experienced only one "down" moment her entire junior year.

However, that single "down" moment made all the difference. She sighed, picked up her pen and began again.

_Jim,_

_Words cannot express all that we've been through in such a short span of time. It's as though everything has changed._

"Ugh!" Pam shouted as she tore through another sheet and balled it up. She threw the new paper ball to the pile and tossed the notepad at the wall, where it landed on her desk. She buried her face in her hands and shook her head hopelessly.

"Knock, knock," a voice said quietly, gently knocking on her door.

"_What_?" Pam moaned exhaustingly.

Her bedroom door opened. A man with salt and pepper hair and almond shaped hazel eyes hidden behind a large pair of black glasses walked in and stared directly at Pam. As a journalist, this man had been in Uganda, doing a story about the genocide occurring in Sudan. It was her father.

"Dad," Pam whispered, getting up from her bed and rushing to give her father a hug. "I've missed you."

"Hello, Pam," Mr. Beesly greeted as he hugged his daughter back and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I've missed you too."

"Dad, I need your help," Pam said. She pointed to her bed, where she resumed her place. Her father got onto her bad and also sat cross – legged across from her. He kept her gaze firmly.

"What is it you need, Pam?"

"Dad… how can you express into words what you're trying to say to a person?"

For his job, Pam's father traveled all over the world covering stories from the war in Iraq to the upcoming Olympics, which were to be held in China. He was highly regarded among his peers for not only being able to hold a person's gaze while interviewing them, but he was also able to get a great story, and say just what he needed to in it. He was also talented at expressing himself – a gene, which Pam had apparently missed out on. Pam was grateful that her father was here. She was never particularly good at writing, let alone at speaking her mind. She felt that her father could help her out.

After a pregnant pause, her father continued to search out his daughter with his eyes, trying to figure out what she yearned to say. He turned to where Jim's yearbook was lying open next to her. He picked it up; surveying all the signatures that Jim had accumulated just on the two front pages. "May I look?" her father inquired.

Pam nodded, and watched as her father flipped through Jim's yearbook, and then to the back. Pam noticed several signatures on nearly every page, and again in the back. Mr. Beesly looked up. "Do you feel inferior?"

Pam shrugged. "I just don't know what to say, Dad."

"Are you scared that what you say might not be enough?"

"A little bit," Pam admitted, as she bit down on her lower lip. "I just look at all the people who signed his yearbook, and not just say the typical 'have a good summer,' but they actually wrote something. _Everybody_ had something good to say about Jim… maybe, except for Dwight."

Her father chuckled. "He is very well liked," Mr. Beesly agreed, "But I think that what you'll say to him will be the most important in his book."

"That's the thing, Dad," Pam sighed. "What's important to him?"

"Pam, are you forgetting that the two of you have been best friends since you were just mere days old? Anything that you say to Jim, he holds in the highest regard, and you hold anything that he says to you very dearly. Do you _truly_ feel what you want to say to him?"

She nodded.

Her father smiled. "If you feel it Pam, then what's standing in your way?"

**II**

Cold, cerebral and uninviting, Jim loathed doctor's offices. The bare, colorless walls, ceiling and carpet gave Jim an unpleasant sense of loneliness and boredom, even though Jared was sitting to the left of him, and the receptionist wasn't that far away from him. Jim looked down at the notebook he had brought with him, and at all the doodles and scribbles he had produced onto the paper. "I can't even get a word down," Jim muttered. "Pathetic."

_Dear Pam,_

_You have been the greatest friend, and now love, that I've ever had._

He crossed it out. That would freak Pam out even more.

_Dear Pam,_

_Remember that one time we convinced Dwight that Louis Pasteur made love potions in addition to finding the cure for rabies?_

Definitely not. _How can I talk about a prank when there are more serious matters at hand?_ Jim thought.

Jim watched as Jared, who had been flipping through a decade old automobile magazine, threw it down onto the gray table in front of them and turned to look at Jim's various scribbles. "Have you figured out what you're going to write yet?"

Jim crossed out the last few sentences he had written and put his pen down on his notebook, which he let slide off aimlessly. When it made a sharp, falling noise onto the hard tiled floor, the receptionist at the desk looked up and stared at the two brothers while Jared bent down to pick up Jim's pen. He returned it to Jim and asked, "Well?"

"She already knows how I feel about her," Jim said frustratingly as he shut the notebook. "And how 'pleasant' our past two interactions have been since then. I don't think I need to rehash it again."

"Is there anything the two of you can…" Jared's voice trailed off.

"I was thinking about writing about that one prank we played on Dwight," Jim said as a small smile came to his face.

Jared laughed. "That would make her laugh."

"It would," Jim replied, "But there's more…"

"Jim, you can still have a sense of humor," Jared said.

Jim shrugged. "Can I?"

Jared let his shoulders drop in return, and didn't say anything after that. An awkward silence followed.

An idea came to Jim. "There's that – "

"James Halpert?" A good – looking young man around Jared's age, with floppy, jet-black hair and a crooked smile, wearing a blue scrub suit addressed him.

Jim looked up and noticed the man's nametag, which read "Hunter."

"Oh yeah… that's me."

"Doctor Mifflin is ready to see you now, if you'll follow me."

Jim nodded and beckoned to Jared, who stood up. The two of them followed the young doctor's assistant, where he first had Jim get onto a scale and have his weight recorded. Then, Hunter led Jim and Jared into Doctor Mifflin's office, where he had Jim change into a gown and have a seat on the examination table.

Shortly after Hunter left, the elderly Doctor Mifflin, with weathered skin and a bald head with tufts of white hair like snow, entered, holding a clipboard close to his face, writing feverishly. "James," he said in a gravely voice, "you've lost twelve pounds since your diagnosis last month."

He looked up from his clipboard and at Jim, a look of concern beginning to spread on his face. "I take it that breathing and swallowing has become a problem for you?"

"Not really, no," Jim answered. "I've just been really busy studying for my final exams."

Doctor Mifflin ignored Jim and asked, "Have you been having any trouble speaking clearly?"

"A – a bit."

Doctor Mifflin set down his clipboard and turned to examine Jim's head, where his injury from the fall was still clearly visible.

"Before you came in, you mother called and told me that you took _quite_ the fall at school today. So I take it that you're still having frequent falls?"

"Yes," Jim said, as he watched Doctor Mifflin pick up his clipboard and start writing again.

"Were you knocked unconscious when you fell?"

"Yeah," Jim muttered. "When I came to, I found myself on the ground and my friend was trying to wake me up."

Doctor Mifflin's look of worry heightened. He asked, "How's your grip on things? When you first came in here, you mentioned that you were having trouble holding onto things, like your textbooks, a basketball… you said that you had trouble opening things too. Is that still the case?"

"Unfortunately," Jim yawned as he rubbed his eyes.

"Have you dropped anything sporadically since your diagnosis?"

"A pair of cards," Jim shrugged, "When I took that fall, I dropped my binder and my book bag."

"Hmm," Doctor Mifflin mused. "I'm going to have you take an NVC and an EMG."

"_Again_?"

"Yes, again, if you'll just follow me."

**III**

Pam continued to sit on her bed, consumed by her thoughts. She had so much she wanted to say to Jim, but came to realize what she wanted to say only took sixteen words.

"_Funny_," Pam thought, "_how so much can be expressed in only a few words_."

With newfound determination, Pam picked up her pen, turned to the only page in Jim's yearbook that hadn't been written on, and began to write.

**IV**

"Well, James," Doctor Mifflin said, as he turned to Jim, who was once again on the examination table, and Jared, sitting in the chair to his left, "It appears that both your upper and lower body are trying to upstage each other…"

"Meaning?" Jared asked.

"Meaning that…" Doctor Mifflin hesitated. "Meaning that James has less time than I originally thought."

Jim watched as Jared's face drained of color and became a sick sort of pale. He buried his face in his hands, and then looked up a short while later, his eyes brimming with wetness. "So… how long does he have?"

"A year, give or take," Doctor Mifflin replied. "The disease is progressing through James' lower body faster than his upper body… but it's putting up quite the fight, I must say. James, at this rate, you will be using a wheelchair by the end of this year."

Jim sighed.

"This is a very unusual case," Doctor Mifflin said bitterly. "I've never a case like this… for Lou Gehrig's Disease to progress rapidly in an elderly person is one thing, and to be expected, but…" The elderly doctor sighed again and ripped a slice of paper off of his clipboard. "For now, I _strongly_ recommend that you use leg braces to assist in your movement. The orthopedic floor is just three flights up. I'll call up and schedule your appointment right away so that you can get braces modified to fit your legs properly."

"Okay," Jim said, not knowing what else to say.

"And if you have any trouble while on your vacation, don't hesitate to call me."

"Okay."

"And James?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"I'm sorry. Terribly sorry."

Jim nodded. He was sick of sorries.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

**I**

Jim was exhausted. The only thing he wanted to do when he returned home was to rip off the wretched leg braces and go to bed. He had drifted off to sleep in the car as Jared was driving home, and was jolted awake once Jared has parked the car in front of their house. "We're home, Little Bro," Jared said softly as he pulled the keys from the ignition. Jim stirred before finally waking up. When he came to, he saw the notebook in his lap and realized that he still had so much to do.

Jared got out of the car and was waiting patiently for his younger brother to do the same. Jim sighed deeply and opened the passenger door, stumbling out of the car clumsily. The leg braces were supposed to help Jim in his movement, but instead found that it was going to take a while for him to get used to them. After Jim shut the car door, and Jared locked it, the two of them walked into the house, where they both saw their parents sitting on the couch. Mrs. Halpert, who owned _Cugino's_, a popular local Italian eatery, reading a cooking magazine, and her husband, a successful attorney, flipping through the televisions channels. They both looked up when they saw their two sons.

Mrs. Halpert, short and blonde, with the fairest skin and Jim's green eyes, rose from her place on the couch and went to embrace her son. "Hi James," she said quietly.

Jim hugged his mother back awkwardly and mumbled a quick "Hello," before Mrs. Halpert let go, and stepped back, facing her son, with her hands still on his shoulders. He noticed that his father, who looked like an older version of Jared, only with a goatee and weathered skin, was now standing next to his mother. Jim gave his father a quick smile, and he smiled back nervously in return.

"What did Doctor Mifflin say?" they both inquired simultaneously.

Beads of sweat instantly formed on Jim' s head. He turned to Jared, who gave him the _you're on your own_ look before turning back to his parents. _How do I tell you?_Jim thought as he looked at them. He felt like the bearer of bad news; Jim remembered too well how his parents had reacted when they first found out he had Lou Gehrig's Disease. They were devastated, however, they had been trying to ignore it, since Jim's symptoms weren't as evident at the time. However, now that Jim's sickness was beginning to show in more ways, he wondered, _Can you ignore it now?_

Jim took a deep breath before telling his parents, "Look down." Mr. Halpert's eyes instantly darted downward, where he noticed Jim's legs now wrapped in the leg braces.

"_Whoa_," Mr. Halpert said, trying to sound casual. "Are those from Doctor Mifflin's office?"

"After my appointment, Doctor Mifflin referred me to the orthopedic floor to get these," Jim answered, before clearing his throat. "He figured that they would help me move better for the time being."

"I… see," Mrs. Halpert remarked, her voice faltering, as she, too looked down at Jim's braces and then up at him again. "How… do the leg braces feel?"

"Fine," Jim lied as wiped his forehead with his left hand.

"Did Doctor Mifflin say anything else?" His father asked while a look of suspicion came onto his face. He eyed Jim, and his mother did the same. Jim knew that his mother didn't believe him.

"No," Jim lied again. "Not yet, anyway."

"What about for the trip?"

"He said to call if anything came up," Jim said hurriedly, as he began walking toward his room. "I think I'm going to go to bed… good night." Jim ignored the looks on his parents' faces as he rushed into his bedroom and shut the door. He leaned against the door and let himself sink to the ground.

"_They didn't buy it" ,_Jim thought instantly, as he recalled the looks on their faces while talking to them. "_They know," _Jim exhaled slowly and shut his eyes. That instant was the first time since he was very young that he had _ever _lied to his parents.

**II**

Pam signed her name and let her fingers gloss over what she had written. To Pam, sixteen words was all it took to express everything you had to say.

**III**

Lying in bed, Jim had Pam's yearbook open, and his notebook on his knees, his pen ready to write what he yearned to say to Pam. He picked up his pen, and was preparing to write when Jared barged into his room.

"Smooth moves, out there," Jared said as he tripped on Jim's leg braces before hopping onto his bed. "Did you _forget_ to let Mom and Dad know what Doctor Mifflin's prognosis was, or did you just blatantly _choose_ to ignore it?"

"Nice tripping on my braces," Jim grumbled sarcastically. "I didn't _ignore_ it, I just…"

"Chose not to tell them."

"Jared, I… I couldn't do it," Jim sighed. He felt tears coming down his face, and wiped them away hastily before continuing, "_You_ try being the one who has to tell Mom and Dad bad news. It's not easy. I _know_ I lied to them. That was the… _firs_t time that I've done that since who knows when!"

"Hey," Jared soothed as he put his arm around his younger brother "It's gonna be okay… well…" Jared sighed. "Look, Jim, just… it isn't my place to tell you when you should tell Mom and Dad… just – tell them when you feel ready to, okay?"

Jim looked up at his brother and said, "Okay," in a small voice.

"Now," Jared said, while looking at Pam's yearbook, and then again at his younger brother, "Have you figured out what you're going to write yet?"

Jim smiled shyly. "I have, actually."

"Alright then," Jared grinned, "Let's pen it."

**IV**

"Sixteen words." Mr. Beesly looked at his daughter and smiled. "You could be a journalist, you know."

**V**

Jared finished reading what Jim had written in Pam's yearbook. "It's short," he admitted. "When you first told me that you had only written sixteen words, I thought you were crazy, but… I think it's what you need to say most."

Later that night, both Jim and Pam went to the other's house, using the secret passageways that they used when they were younger and liked to play "Cops and Robbers," always hiding from the other whenever possible. They did this so that they wouldn't see each other. Before Jim crossed the street to go to Pam's house, he plucked a yellow rose off the rosebush in the front yard and stuck it in Pam's yearbook, using it as a bookmark where Jim had written his passage. When Jim returned home, he saw his yearbook on the front porch, with a bright yellow rose sticking out from the inside. Jim's breath caught in his throat. He picked up his yearbook nervously, opened it and gasped.

**VI**

Pam was hoping that she would see Jim as she returned his yearbook, but at the same time, was hoping that she wouldn't. She didn't know why she chose to take a yellow rose from the rosebush on Jim's front porch, but she did. When she returned home, she found her yearbook, also with a yellow rose inside. Pam picked it up with trembling hands and opened the yearbook where the yellow rose was marking it. She took in a deep breath and held it, as she noticed that Jim had signed her yearbook with that small, miniscule, handwriting Pam had come to recognize right by his school picture – his light brown hair as messy as ever, his green eyes dancing with mirth, a laugh upon his lips. He was very much alive in that picture, not yet knowing what was to come. Pam continued to hold her breath as she let a tear fall onto the passage that Jim had written to her.

_Beesly,_

_You know I love you. Follow your dreams and attend the art convention._

_Always,_

_Jim_

Jim swallowed and let his fingers slide over the neat cursive Pam had used to write to Jim. Like him, Pam had signed right next to her yearbook picture. Her auburn hair was down loosely – a rarity, and she smiled a tentative smile, but her chocolate eyes were filled with warmth. He stared at what she had written again.

_Halpert,_

_I didn't want to admit it, but I can't live without you. Please don't go._

"Me neither, Pam," Jim said. A tear fell onto her signature, and Jim chose not to brush it away.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

**I**

"Have a nice day!" Pam called out kindly to an elderly woman who was exiting _South of Samuel's_, the small convenience store where Pam had been employed for the past three weeks. Pam was working full time to save money for the cost of the transportation needed to get to the convention. Princeton University was only two hours away from Scranton, Pennsylvania; however, Mr. And Mrs. Beesly had decided to let Pam drive herself there and back. Pam would need the money she was earning at _South of Samuel's_ to pay for gas, food and any souvenirs she decided to get while at the convention.

It was now July twelfth, and Jim had been gone for four weeks. Pam missed him, and wished that he could be here, providing her with hours of entertainment while she was bored at work. However, Jim had been sending her letters and postcards, and Pam was corresponding back. This made the situation of Jim being gone for the summer better to handle. She was happy that Jim was able to get away from Scranton for a while, but she was also insanely jealous at everything Jim got to see and experience. He had sent her pictures of him in front of the Sydney Opera House, of him and Jared in the Outback, kneeling next to a wallaby, standing in front of the Steve Irwin Memorial, with his thumbs up, at the Australia Zoo, snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef, and finally, a picture of him in a field of yellow roses in Canberra. When Pam saw that picture for the first time, her breath caught in her throat, and she had to set the picture aside, face down. She hadn't been able to look at it since.

Most workdays at _South of Samuel's_ were mundane and boring, and Pam would find herself doing the littlest of things to keep her from going crazy. She found herself counting the change in the cash register for the thirtieth time that day, seeing if there were enough pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters. She closed the cash register and had moved on to counting the dollar bills, when the bell rang, signaling that a new customer had entered the store. Pam put the dollars back, closing the cash register, finding herself looking at Darryl Philbin, with this thick, black hair messy, wearing a red polo shirt and denim shorts, browsing the candy aisle. He did not notice her, however, Pam saw that he had an apprehensive look on his face, as though he was hiding a dark secret.

"Hi Darryl," Pam greeted.

Darryl's eyes strayed from the candy bar as he shook his head and said, "Hey, Pam."

"How's your summer been?"

"It's been okay," Darryl answered as he picked up a Snicker's bar and brought it to Pam. "I just got back from visiting my grandparents in Washington, and football practice starts on Monday."

Pam nodded as she rang up the Snicker's bar. "I heard that you're going to be captain. Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Darryl said. "So, uh, Roy told me that you might be going to an art convention this summer."

"_Might be_?" Pam said. "I'm _going_ to it. I told him that."

Darryl shrugged.

"Your Snicker's bar is seventy – five cents," Pam said, attempting not to sound frustrated. Why would Roy twist Pam's words like that? He _knew_ that she was going to the art convention, and knew that she had gotten a job to save money for it. It infuriated Pam that Roy would take something that Pam had told him and purposely blow it out of context.

Darryl reached into his pocket and handed Pam three quarters, which she put into the cash register. She looked up again at Darryl when he added, "Roy also told me that you haven't been talking to him lately."

"I've been busy working, and he was in the Pocono's last week."

"He said that you didn't call him at _all_ while he was out of town."

"I'm working _full time_ Monday through Saturday!" Pam exclaimed defensively.

"That doesn't give me a whole lot of time to do anything!"

"You have Sundays off," Darryl pointed out.

Pam rolled her eyes and said, "I know Darryl." She beckoned for him to leave and added, "It's not like _he's_ been making an effort to talk to me, either."

Darryl nodded and continued to stand there, his mouth turning into a small frown. He looked as though he was trying to make a decision. Was there something that he wanted to tell Pam?

"Darryl, is there something you want to tell me?"

"No," he replied rapidly, before scurrying out of the store. He threw Pam an odd sort of glance as he left.

The rest of the workday went on rather uneventfully. When it was time to leave, Pam closed up _South of Samuel's_ and decided to take a walk before heading home. As she did, numerous thoughts came to her. "_Does Darryl know something that I don't_?" It seemed like he wanted to tell her something – what was it? Pam found these thoughts somewhat troubling, but not as troubling as the final thought that came to her. "_Am I really working to save money for the art convention, or am I working to get away from Roy_?"

**II**

The next day was a lazy Sunday afternoon and Pam had the day off. She spent the entire day contemplating whether or not to pick up the phone to call Roy and speak to him. It was seven in the evening, and Pam was sitting at her desk, toying with the notion of whether or not to pick up her phone. Her hand reached out to it, and then drew back. Pam knew how aggressive Roy could get if he was angry about something. Pam sensed that he was mad at her for not speaking to him for so long.

She picked up the phone hesitatingly and dialed his number, praying that it would go straight to his answering machine. For the first time, Pam was grateful that Roy didn't have Caller I.D. The phone rang three times, and Pam was about to hang up when Roy's gruff voice belted out, "_Hello_?"

"Roy?"

"_Yes_…"

"It's Pam."

Pam heard Roy swear frustratingly before speaking. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Pam answered timidly. It was terrifying to her how vulnerable she became whenever she was with Roy – whether she was actually in his presence, or just merely speaking on the phone with him, it scared her how Roy could make her feel so weak and inferior. "I've been working a lot."

"So is that why you haven't been talking to me lately?" he demanded coldly.

"I've been busy saving up money for the convention."

"You're actually _going_ to that?"

Pam found her voice becoming firm as she replied, "Yes, I'm going."

"Great for you," Roy snarled sarcastically.

At this point, Pam no longer felt scared of Roy. Instead, she felt rage for letting him toy with her emotions for all these years, and anger at the fact that she had wasted three years of her life with someone who was so cruel to her. She no longer felt vulnerable and weak, but felt stronger, and determined to prove to Roy that she was more than just this girl that he could kick around. Pam said coldly, "It's not like you made it a point to talk to me while you were on vacation. You haven't made a _single_ effort to visit me while I've been at work. Even Darryl visited me. Heck, even Angela came by and had a nice chat with me, and you and I both know she thinks that any girl who isn't her is a complete whore."

"Well, I'm sorry that I don't make it a priority to go to convenience stores in my spare time."

Pam's instant reaction was to stiffen and to give in to Roy. Instead, she took a deep breath and replied, "Roy, we need some catching up to do. Meet me at John Dickson Park in fifteen minutes. Don't be late." She hung up the phone before Roy could retort back and smiled.

**III**

Later, with her newly acquired driver's license, Pam drove to the park resolutely, longing to give Roy a piece of her mind. As she parked her car, she could see Roy vaguely in the distance, sitting on a bench close to the swings, turned to something.

Pam got out of her car and locked it. She began walking toward Roy, seeing more of him, and wondering what he was looking at. Pam was standing a few feet away from him when feelings of uncertainty and doubt began to return. She clasped her keys tighter in her hand, trying to push those feelings away. Her teeth gritted angrily as she watched Roy press his lips down to the throat of a blonde girl sitting next to him.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

**I**

"Roy," Pam said loudly. Roy turned to the blonde girl next to him and the two looked up at Pam. She noticed how awkward the pair looked; Roy, with his disheveled hair and clothing, and the girl, with long, caramel hair that fell to her waist in glossy waves, blue eyes like an ocean, and rosy lips, wearing a low – cut, blue halter dress which made her eyes stand out even more. Pam hated to admit it, but the girl _was_ pretty. She even found herself feeling a little jealous, and baffled as to what this girl would see in Roy. "Roy," Pam repeated, "We need to talk."

"Pammy, can't this wait until later?" Roy pleaded. "Tara and I are a little busy right now."

"_No_ Roy, it _can't_," Pam said adamantly. Roy sighed and turned to Tara before looking again at Pam. "_Now_, Roy," Pam prompted.

Roy got up from his place on the bench. He and Pam walked to the creaking swings and each took one, sitting next to the other. Roy's swing sagged with his weight as he turned to Pam and sneered, "You are the _biggest_ hypocrite I've ever met, you realize that?"

"_Me_?" Pam demanded. "What about _you_, Roy? You hated that I didn't call you while you were in the Pocono's. You got mad that I was working to save money for the art convention, and you thwarted my words when you talked to Darryl. You're mad that I haven't spoken to you, but yet it's okay for you not to make the effort to speak to me… and for you to get together with some other girl!"

"You don't know Tara the way _I_ do," Roy said, attempting to defend himself. "She understands me like nobody else does!"

"How long have you known her for?" Pam inquired darkly.

Roy looked down before admitting, "Three days. We met at the movies."

"_I can't believe you_!" Pam cried out disgustedly. "You're saying _that girl_ understands you better than me when we've been together for _three years_!"

Roy smirked at Pam coolly and replied, "_That girl is_ named _Tara_. And sometimes it doesn't take a long time to understand somebody."

Pam snorted at Roy's efforts to justify the fact that he was cheating on her. "Is there anyone else I should know about?"

Roy's body instantly tightened, and his eyes began to dart from side to side. He began to swing, and ignored Pam's question in its entirety. Pam watched as the swing languished under Roy's weight. His attempts to swing high were futile, and he came to a stop, his feet sliding against the gravel.

After Roy stopped his feet Pam stared at him and demanded, "_Is there_?"

"_No_!" Roy hollered. "There's _not_!"

"Can I trust you on that?"

Roy looked down, once again, ignoring Pam, and confirming what she thought was true since she saw Darryl in _South of Samuel's_ the previous day. It hurt her that Roy would do this, however, she realized that she now had an legitimate excuse to break up with him.

"We're through, Roy," Pam said. The instant she said it, she felt liberated, as though a large weight had been lifted off her chest. She felt lighter, and happy that she didn't have any to carry anymore emotional baggage around.

Roy's face contorted into an indignant expression. "_What_?" he spat, "_You_ can't break up with _me_."

"Actually, Roy, I am right now," Pam said as she got up from her place on the swing and began walking to the bench where Tara was sitting dumbly, where she was waiting for Pam and Roy to finish their conversation.

"Pammy, wait!" Roy shouted. Pam turned around to find Roy running to her from the swings. He came up to her and touched her arm gently. He noticed Tara watching the two of them. He ignored her, and whispered to Pam gently, "We can still be together, you know." His hand moved down from Pam's arm to her hand. She watched as Roy took her hand and squeezed it. "We can have more of an open relationship," he offered. "We'll still be together, but we'll also get to experiment."

Pam laughed cynically. She had never heard an offer so ludicrous before in her life. She tore her hand away from Roy's. "_No_," she said defiantly.

Roy tried to reach out to Pam again. "Pammy –"

"I said _no_, Roy!" Pam screamed. She noticed as Tara recoiled from her place on the bench. Pam turned to Tara and stared at her. "_You're such a small person_," she thought to herself. She turned again to Roy and thought, "_But you're even __**smaller**_."

"You are the _most __**pathetic**_, _**dishonest**_, and _**repulsive**_ person that I've _ever_ met. I _thoroughly_ regret _ever_ saying that I'd date you. I would like to thank you for _**wasting**_ three years of my life… years that I could've spent _**living**_, and pursing other interests, that I instead _wasted_ on _you_. Those three years that I spent being belittled and pushed around by you – I can _never_ get those years back. We're through, Roy, and we always will be." She turned to Tara, who was staring at Pam with a scared expression and said frigidly, "I wish you all the luck in the world with this sorry excuse for a person."

Pam turned around and ran for her car, tears coursing down her cheeks. She was determined to never let Roy see her cry. She got in her car and drove around aimlessly, not yet wanting to return home. She found herself pulling into the parking lot of _Cugino's._ She got out of her car and walked in, finding that she was the only person in the restaurant. Pam loved this place. When she was younger, she and Jim would come here and would always get free breadsticks. The two of them would sit in the same booth by the window and talk about their daily lives. How Pam missed it! These excursions began to cease when Pam started dating Roy. At first, she, Roy and Jim would go together, and sit in that same booth, but it never felt the same. As Pam walked in and slid into that same booth, she now knew why. Now, by herself, she had never felt so alone.

A waitress put a plate of breadsticks on the table and gave Pam a menu before asking what she wanted to drink. Pam said, "Water," without looking up, not wanting the waitress to see her eyes all red and puffy from crying. Pam took a breadstick and began nibbling on it. It tasted like heaven – Mrs. Halpert always made the best breadsticks. She was always here, but because the Halpert family was gone for their vacation, one of the other employees, Hunter, a striking medical student who was finishing up his residency at Scranton Memorial Hospital & Doctor's Office, was acting as the temporary manager. He gave Pam a smile before returning to the back kitchen. Pam smiled feebly and returned to eating her breadstick.

When the waitress returned with her water, Pam ordered a plate of spaghetti with meatballs on top to go with it. When she would go here with Jim, they would order a single plate and share it. She had tried to do the same with Roy once, but he declined. Roy wasn't the perfect boyfriend to Pam, let alone a decent one, but he had been a constant in Pam's life for the past three years. She could always count on him to drive her to school and on their dates, and to pay for their weekly date night, even if it was just for a dollar hot dog and a movie ticket at the old movie theatre that only played silent movies. It was nights like these when Pam wondered why she was dating Roy. Looking back, Pam realized that it was because of her want to have a boyfriend, no matter who it was. Also, on the occasions that Roy _did_ do something truly spectacular, such as the time when he got Pam the set of watercolors she wanted for her birthday, Pam was able to convince herself that she could change Roy. She found herself giving him chance after chance for all the rare instances that he had done something worthwhile for her. At this instant, Pam realized that there was another constant in her life too: Jim.

Pam found her body being racked with sobs again when her plate of spaghetti was brought to her. She wasn't crying because of Roy, or because she missed him. She was crying because her life was changing, and she didn't know how she was going to handle it.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

**I**

_He was walking in a large field. The grass was bright green and littered with red and yellow chrysanthemums, and the sky was a light blue, with the smallest twinge of pink. Large cherry trees cascaded into the sky. The colors all around him seemed surreal, like pastels swirling all around him. He stood there, watching all the colors blend in and become one. Soon, the color of light yellow was all around him. The yellow came closer, smothered him, and began to choke him. He saw a flicker of blue in the corner, and tried to go toward it, but his legs failed him. He tried again, but found that he could no longer move his arms. He tried to twist his body, but it would not move. When he tried to shake his head, as if to beckon the flicker of blue to come toward him, his head stayed put. The yellow engulfed him, and he could not stop it._

**II**

Jim woke up in a sweat. He moved his arms, shook his head, and twisted his torso. He leaned against his pillow and breathed a sigh of relief. He stared at the clock next to the night dresser, which indicated that it was two – thirty in the morning. After checking the time, he got up and put on his leg braces, which were sitting by his bed, and walked outside to the back porch from the guest bedroom he was staying in. He took hold of the railing and stared up at the starry, Australian sky. For the past five days, Jim and his family had been in Perth, where they watched the opera Carmen at the Perth Concert Hall, and had explored the Burswood Dome and His Majesty's Theatre, two historic monuments located in the cultured, Australian city.

While he had liked seeing all the musical and theatrical sites, Jim's favorite thing about Perth had been the thriving art culture, and seeing all the art exhibits there. His favorite museum had been the West Australian Art Gallery, which showed an exhibition of modern, abstract, real, impressionist, surreal and Aboriginal art. He especially enjoyed the impressionist art, and the paintings by Vincent Van Gough. His favorite painting was the _Cherry Tree_, the tree that had appeared in his dream.

To Jim, the tree had represented tranquility, a place to where he could escape and lay under its shade, and take a break from life. Since arriving in Australia, Jim had never felt so calm and peaceful before in his life. This was the first time since he found out about his illness that he had been able to find some inner peace. He loved that he was able to get away from the real world for a while, and do the small, simple things that brought him joy – things such as swimming in the clear, blue water with Jared, lounging on the pearly white sand and relaxing. He got to go places that he'd never thought he'd get to go, and see things that he'd never thought he'd get to see. Jim didn't bother writing to anyone else in Scranton, with the sole exception of Pam. He was happy to learn that she had chosen to follow her dreams and attend the art convention. After hearing that piece of news, and being in Australia, Jim had thought to himself, "_Things are looking up_." So why was he having this dream?

He didn't understand – if the tree represented serenity, then why was this dream that he had been having for the past two nights haunting him?

Jim shook his head and tried to think. Something was not right, but he didn't know what it was. He thought about Pam, how, in her last letter, she had informed him that she was going to the art convention, and how she was working at _South of Samuel's_ to save money for it. She had also mentioned how she broke up with Roy, but didn't say why. As Jim had read the letter, he couldn't help but think, "_Finally_." He thought about Jared, and how he felt that the two of them were closer than ever. Jared had been his rock and his strength, the one who Jim went to for help. Jim began thinking about his great – aunt Mabel, with her long, curly red hair, large brown eyes, like a cow's, and her shy, quiet nature, and how she had never truly put herself out there. Jim was grateful to his great – aunt, and how she had been willing to open up her home to Jim and his family for seven weeks. He would stare at her, and observe her mannerisms, and would think, "_You ran away from opportunity. Who knows what your life could have been like_." Was his mind telling him that he needed to put himself out there more, even though he didn't have much time left? He stared up into the sky and wondered, "_What do I need to do_?"

At that moment, his thoughts turned to his parents – his sweet parents, who had dropped everything to give their son the best vacation he had ever been on; the parents who had been there for their son every step of the way since finding out he had a fatal disease; the parents who remained strong through it all. It had been four weeks since Jim's last doctor's appointment, and since he had received his leg braces. Jim realized that his movement, not just in his legs, but also in his arms and torso, had continued to worsen progressively. He was sure that his parents had noticed it as well, since nothing could ever get past them. He recalled trying to reach for something at the kitchen table one evening for dinner, and how his arm had languished. He turned his eyes toward his mother, whose green eyes, _Jim's eyes_, looked gravely concerned.

Jim shook his head again and found the constellation Orion in the stars. "They know," he said quietly to himself, "But that doesn't give me the right to keep the truth from them."

He walked back inside and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. While doing so, he was shocked to see his father sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper.

"Dad!" Jim exclaimed, "What are you doing awake?"

Mr. Halpert put down the newspaper and stared at his son pointedly. "I should be asking you the same question."

"Well, you're not much of a night owl," Jim said, attempting to sound casual while taking a seat next to his father.

"I've become more of a night owl in the past few months," his father replied. "I find that it's easier for me to ponder things when it's later at night and when I am alone to do so."

Jim nodded. "I've been up thinking too."

"About what?"

"Things," Jim answered. "What have you been thinking about?"

"Life…." Mr. Halpert trailed off. "The life _I've_ lead, what I've done with it, what else it has in store for me… if I've done everything I should." Jim's father turned to stare at his son. "Sometimes, it'll give you a fork in the road that you expected least."

Jim nodded. "Dad…"

"Hm?"

"About what you mentioned… how if you wonder if you've done everything you should?"

"Yes?"

"I… I did something I wasn't supposed to."

"What?"

"_I've been lying to you for the past month_!" Jim cried in a rush. "When… when I had my doctor's appointment, Doctor Mifflin told me more…"

"Than your leg braces," Jim's father finished for him. "Your mother and I _knew_ there was something you weren't telling us."

"Parent's intuition?"

"That, and… well, you know," Mr. Halpert shrugged.

Jim looked at his father and couldn't believe that he could be so forgiving about such a serious matter. It really proved to Jim how much his parents loved him. He was very moved by the gesture, and tears sprang to his eyes.

"Son – "

"Dad," Jim trembled, "At my last appointment, I was told that… that there's less time than Doctor Mifflin originally thought." He felt his father's arms around him. He continued crying as his father began to rock him gently. "He… he said a year, give or take." He looked up at his father and said, "I'm sorry I – I didn't tell you earlier, but I couldn't do it. I didn't want to be the bearer of bad news."

"It's okay, Son," Mr. Halpert soothed. "_No one_ should have to be in the position that you're in. _No one_." Jim watched as his father looked straight into his eyes and said, "Starting now, the Halpert family will have the best year of their lives. I believe that a good start to that year would be a good night's sleep. What do you say?"

"It's a deal," Jim smiled. He got up from his place at the table and said, "Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome, Son," his father smiled as he returned to the paper. "I love you."

"I love you too." Jim returned to his room and climbed back into bed. He fell into a peaceful sleep, where this time, when he dreamed, he sat underneath the cherry tree, relaxing, and the flicker of blue came to him. Jim held it tight and let it engulf him.

Now, he was truly, and completely, at peace.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

**I**

Pam had woken up at seven in the morning to drive herself to the art convention. The trip was only supposed to take a little over two hours, however, traffic had been horrendous, and Pam instead found herself driving for nearly three and a half hours. She wasn't complaining though; even though she was tired from all the driving, she was elated to be out of _South of Samuel's_ and to be pursuing something that she wanted to do. Additionally, she was excited for Jim to be returning home in just a few short weeks. Right now, he was in Switzerland and he had been sending her pictures of the Swiss Alps, the Zmutt Valley and Swiss National Park. He had even sent her a box of Swiss chocolates, which Pam had been nibbling on the way up to the convention. It had occurred to Pam over the summer that Roy had never been great at keeping in touch with her like Jim was. He seemed to understand, unlike Roy, that Pam needed a consistent correspondence with the people she was close to, even though she did not want to admit it in her stubbornness. She realized that that was the reason why Jim had stuck by her for those years while she was with Roy.

Pam continued to keep her eyes out on the road, eager to get to Princeton University. It was now ten – thirty in the morning, and Pam had now been driving for several hours. She signaled and changed lanes to the right, and instantly noticed the majestic college campus, with its towering gothic - styled brick buildings come into view. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she pulled up to the campus and saw a sign, which read, "_Princeton University Art Convention: Student Check – in is On the Left_." Pam grinned to herself, signaled, and turned left. She pulled into a parking space, unloaded her luggage, locked the car, and came face to face with the Princeton University Art Museum. It was a smaller building, however, she couldn't help but be taken in by its simple architecture. She walked to the check – in table eagerly, which was in front of the museum, where three college students were sitting behind the check – in table. One was a young man with thick, curly blonde hair that fell into his chocolate eyes and a tanned complexion. He had these unusually delicate features, which were chiseled out rather sharply. Pam found him to be unnaturally handsome. The other two were girls; the one sitting to the young man's left had a jet-black haircut styled like a pixie's with velvet streaks. Her skin was like caramel and her eyes were like black holes in space. The other young woman had fiery red hair with cascaded to her mid – back and translucent skin. Her eyes were light blue, like the sky, and her mouth was a thin line. Pam found herself feeling intimidated by these people and tried to act nonchalantly around them. Even though she had vowed never to let anyone intimidate her again after Roy, she couldn't help it. She was scared of these people, yet wanted to impress them at the same time.

"Hello," the young man greeted in a deep, soothing voice. "Welcome to the annual Princeton University Art Convention. My name is Roger Bateman, and this is Cordelia Matthews," he pointed to the girl with the pixie haircut, and then to the girl with red hair, "And Mithra Monserrat."

"Nice to meet you," Pam said quickly.

"Please sate your name and we will be able to get you your room squared away for you," Mithra said fluidly.

"Pamela Beesly," Pam breathed slowly, "But I prefer to go by Pam."

Roger grinned up at Pam, baring several pearly white teeth. "Pam Beesly…" he mused, "You were the third place winner at the annual art contest. You were the high school junior who placed above university art students. Impressive."

"Yes, that's me."

Mithra gave a loud, "_Tuh_!" and said coolly, "It looks like you have everything squared away. You'll be staying in the West College, in Room 264 on Floor Eight." She bent down and got out a gray shirt with the Princeton University logo on the front, a lanyard with a key, a meal card, and an I.D. and finished dully, "This is your key, which you use to get into your dorm room, your meal card, you use for meals, and your I.D., so that you can meet and greet with other people who are at the art convention. Orientation is at one o'clock, here. Please be on time. The director, Wayne Thiebaud– "

"You mean of UC Davis?" Pam inquired excitedly. Ms. Turner had talked about Wayne Thiebaud frequently in her art class, and had taught Ms. Turner when she was a college student herself. Pam remembered Ms. Turner telling her about how she had gone to U.C. Davis intent on majoring in veterinary science, when she had chosen on a whim to go to a lecture sponsored by the Professor Arneson himself. His passion for the arts had impressed Ms. Turner and had motivated her to change her major to art that very day. Pam always heard her teacher praise the art professor, and she always hoped that she would get to meet the famous professor one day herself.

"_Yes_," Mithra cut Pam off curtly, "Mr. Thiebaud does _not_ tolerate tardiness."

"Okay, I'll remember that," Pam said quietly.

"Also," Roger added, as he handed a small paper book to Pam, "This is your agenda for this week. It basically tells you when meals are served, and when the lectures are, and where. Try to go to all the lectures on Modern Art." He smiled and gave Pam a wink before saying, "Have a nice week here."

"Thank you so much!" Pam smiled, as she turned around and headed off to her dorm room. The time was now eleven o'clock, and by the time Pam had found the West College, after bumping into several people, asking for directions, and getting lost several times, she _finally_ found her dorm room, and the time was now eleven – forty – five. She opened the door to the room, which would be her home for five days. The room was about the same size as her room at home, and had light brown carpet, a twin sized bed with a burgundy comforter right next to the window, which gave Pam the view of several green trees. There was an oak desk to the right of the bed, and a dresser adjacent to it. She set her luggage down by the dresser, and flopped down on the bed. She yawned and let herself drift off to sleep.

**II**

_She was walking among a field of cherry trees. The air smelled of cherry blossoms and pomegranate and filled her with a sense of contentment. The sky was a pastel color, a light blue, and she saw a pair of eyes staring down at her. Wanting to get away from the eyes, she continued walking, but stopped when she noticed the silhouette of a young man sitting underneath one of the trees. At first, Pam could only see his profile, and nothing more, but as she walked closer to the young man, the black covering him melted away, and revealed to her the young man. He had messy brass hair, a fair complexion, and a withering frame. His body seemed lankier than ever, and his face was extremely gaunt. Deep, purple circles surrounded a pair of green eyes that Pam knew too well._

_It just __**couldn't **__be…_

_**"Jim?"**_

_The young man looked up; he looked sickly, but his eyes lit up when he saw her. "Pam," he grinned, "Come sit with me."_

_Pam nodded eagerly and was about to sit down next to Jim when she heard another voice._

_"Pam!" This voice wasn't calm and pleasant like Jim's, but more authoritative and firm, yet still had this…gentleness to it. She looked up and noticed another silhouette, once again covered in black. However, this silhouette looked strong and imposing. "Come with me."_

_"Who are you?" Pam asked the silhouette._

_"Does it matter?" the silhouette bantered casually._

_"But I don't even __**know **__you!"_

_"Yes you do."_

_"Really?"_

_"Just vaguely, but you __**do **__know me."_

_"Why can't you tell me who you are?" Pam became curious. She wanted to know more about this silhouette that was talking to her, that claimed he knew her. He wanted her to join him. He tossed his head to the right, which revealed a theme park, with a Ferris wheel, a roller coaster, carnival games, and a cotton candy machine, all under a bright blue sky. The theme park looked fun and impressive, and Pam instantly found herself wanting to go to it._

_"Pam..." She turned again and noticed Jim still sitting underneath the cherry tree, staring up at her with his beautiful green eyes. She yearned to stay with Jim, but when she turned back to the theme park again, she found herself yearning to go there._

_She didn't know which way to go._

**III**

Pam woke up, jostled. She shook her head, and looked at the clock on the desk. It was now twelve – fifty – three in the afternoon. Realizing that she was going to be late for the orientation, and remembering that Professor Thiebaud did not tolerate lateness (or so Mithra said), Pam found herself stumbling from the bed, grabbed her backpack and ran, not bothering to lock the door behind her.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

**I**

Pam sprinted to the art museum, finally finding a seat in the very back and sitting in it at exactly twelve – fifty – nine. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked up when she realized that she was on time. Roger, Cordelia and Mithra were sitting at the very front facing the audience, and next to Roger was a much older man, wearing a yellow shirt under a burgundy sweater and glasses. _So this must be __**the **__Wayne Thiebaud,_Pam thought to herself, smiling. _I can't wait to see Ms. Turner's reaction when I tell her that he was here!_She looked up, waiting for the orientation to begin, but ceased smiling when she noticed Mithra giving her a steely glare. Pam ignored her and turned her attention to Roger, who was now standing behind a podium.

In a cool voice, he greeted, "Hello everyone, my name is Roger Bateman, an art student here, and I would like to welcome you all to the annual Princeton University Art Convention. All of us here have the privilege of being able to view art from many different time periods and cultures and to be able to hear lectures from many famous artists. Of course, this convention would not be possible if it weren't for the Wayne Thiebaud, an acclaimed pop artist who once taught at U.C. Davis. He will address us now."

After a brief applause, Mr. Thiebaud approached the podium and began to speak. Pam strained her ears, trying to listen to what he was saying, however, she soon found herself distracted by Roger, who was sitting in his chair and seemed to be listening intently to what Mr. Thiebaud was saying. His eyes appeared to be focused directly on the former professor, even though his straw colored hair was covering them somewhat. He shook his head jauntily to get his hair out of his eyes and noticed that Pam was staring at him. Roger turned to her and gave her a wink before turning his attention back to Mr. Thiebaud. Pam tried once again to listen, but found that she could not. She spent the entire lecture staring at Roger and observing his mannerisms, noticing how he scratched his left ear or yawned whenever he appeared to be bored, or how he began tapping his foot lightly whenever Cordelia tried to whisper something in his ear. Pam caught Mithra glaring at her again. She eyed Mithra coldly and returned the glare just as Mr. Thiebaud was saying his last words.

After the applause died down, Roger had taken Mr. Thiebaud's place at the podium and announced that dinner would be served in the cafeteria. Her stomach growling, Pam got up from her place and followed the large crowd to the cafeteria. As she looked around, she noticed that the people around her were much older than she was. Pam felt as though she was the youngest participant at the art convention. She walked the salad bar and noticed that several of these people were art students, or were in their late thirties or early forties. Pam fixed her salad quickly and found a table to sit at.

She was chewing her tasteless salad when she looked up and saw Roger with a tray full of food. With a roguish sort of charm, he inquired, "May I sit here?"

Pam, who was too shocked to say anything else, nodded. Roger sat down across from her and asked, "So, how was the orientation?"

"It was fine," Pam said quickly, as she set her fork down. She watched as Roger reached for his hamburger and began eating. The silence felt awkward, so in an attempt to sound impressive, she added, "Mr. Thiebaud is an amazing lecturer."

Roger set down his hamburger. "Really?" he asked. "I just thought he was alright," he shrugged again; "His lectures don't really match up to how amazing his artwork is. He's a real big pop artist… you've heard of him, right?"

"Yeah," Pam said, "I studied him in my A.P. Studio Art class last year. It was my favorite subject."

Roger grinned. "I took that class in high school too. Loved it. I tried to fit in as many art classes as I could."

"Me too!" Pam exclaimed. "Next year is my senior year, and I'm taking a ton of art classes… like A.P. Graphic Design, A.P. Art History… just as many as I can."

"Have you thought of applying to any art schools?"

Pam winced at the thought. Not that it was bad; just she always _thought_ she knew what she wanted to do. At the beginning of her relationship with Roy, the two of them had planned to stay in Scranton. Pam would attend university there, and Roy would attend community college, and then attempt to transfer. That had always been the plan. Now, she had no idea what she wanted.

"Art school isn't in your interests?" Roger said.

"No, not that… it's just that I've never thought about it before."

"Well, I think you should give it more thought," Roger said, smiling at her. "I really do."

"You do?"

"Yeah, Pam. You placed pretty high in the art contest for a high school student. I think that alone proves that you can have a career in this field… in fact," he chuckled to himself, "I think that's why Mithra's jealous of you."

"Jealous of _me_?" Pam asked. "Why?" She turned to the left, where Mithra was sitting at another table. She noticed Pam staring at her and sneered, before turning back to chat with Cordelia and another guy with spiky black hair and numerous piercings.

Roger said quietly, "Mithra entered the art contest and placed fourth. It wasn't a big deal to her until she found out who won. When she learned that she placed below you…" Roger shook his head. "Let's just say that Mithra gets jealous really easily."

"Oh," Pam breathed.

"But really, Pam," Roger remarked, "You should seriously consider what you can do in this field. You _can_ do a lot."

Pam smiled and began finishing her salad, which now started to taste a lot better. It was going to be a good week at Princeton.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

**I**

"_Come __**on**__, Pam!"_

_It was the silhouette again._

_Pam was standing across from it, with her hands on her hips, feeling somewhat intimidating. "What do you want from me?" she demanded._

"_I __**want **__and __**need **__you to ride the Ferris wheel with me!"_

"_Why, though?"_

"_I just __**do**__." He beckoned to the Ferris wheel once again, but Pam chose to ignore the silhouette instead._

_"That still doesn't answer my question," she told the silhouette with a cold defiance. Her eyes ended up wandering toward the Ferris wheel, which __**did **__look rather enticing. It was painted a deep cherry red, with bright yellow stripes cascading across it. From the center, where the carnival ride's long lines stretched out to hold the passenger gondolas, were yellow rose vines intertwined. The ride was moving at a nice pace – not too fast, not too slow. Pam smiled. Maybe __**one **__ride on the Ferris wheel wouldn't hurt._

_She breathed, and could feel Jim's distinct presence around her. She knew he was still behind her, sitting underneath the cherry tree. For some reason, Pam felt very strongly that she needed to ask him if it was all right that she ride the Ferris wheel. She didn't know why she was asking him; all she knew was that there was going to be a large void in her life when he was gone._

"_Jim," she said, still facing the silhouette. She turned around and saw him still sitting underneath the cherry tree, looking even more ill than he had previously, almost like a skeleton. He was attempting to stand up, but his rail thin body was preventing him from doing so. His eyes, those green eyes, seemed to bulge from their sockets, and his mouth was parted, as if he needed to say something. However, before he could stand up all the way…_

_Pam gasped, watching in horror as Jim's body began to disintegrate._

**II**

"NO, JIM, NO! NO! NO!" Pam tossed and turned in her bed, and finally sat up, her breathing fast and uneven. She stopped when she surveyed her surroundings and realized that she was in her dorm room. Feeling relief wash over her, Pam leaned back against her pillow. The dream hadn't been real after all, and yet it felt that way. Even right now, while she was awake at the unearthly hour of three – fifteen in the morning, she felt a strange sort of void; the void she knew would come into her life once Jim left this world.

But _surely _he couldn't be gone yet – after all, he was still in Switzerland with his family, and Pam knew that her parents would've told her if something had happened. Yet, she couldn't get over how real the dream appeared to be, even though she knew otherwise. She also wondered – _who_ was that silhouette that kept haunting her?

The art convention ended up being nothing like Pam expected. She also didn't expect it to already be Thursday, and for the convention to be almost over, as she and Roger were leaving a lecture that they had just attended by Daniel Buren. She didn't expect to learn more about art in a single week than she had in several years of art classes, and she most certainly didn't expect to receive any praise on her artwork by all the professional, and famous artists who were at the convention – artists who had left their mark on the world and who had redefined the meaning of art itself. She also didn't expect to find a friend in Roger Bateman.

She did, however, find herself expecting to receive a glare, a sneer, and to even have to work scoffed at by Mithra. While at the lecture being held by Buren, Pam found herself sketching a sunset when Mithra, noticing it, had snarled, "I bet an _ant_ could draw better than that." Pam had been furious, and was about to respond when Roger had snapped, "Back off, Mithra, it's better than _your _drawing of a palm tree." After that, Mithra had stopped talking, and hadn't approached Pam since.

"Thank you… for saying that," Pam had told Roger as the two of them found themselves in the courtyard after leaving the lecture.

"It was nothing," Roger replied as he flipped his blonde hair from his chocolate drop eyes gracefully. "Sometimes, I just don't understand Mithra," he said. "And almost frequently, I can't stand her." Pam repressed a giggle as he continued; "She thinks she _always_ has to be better than everybody else, especially when it comes to art. She even acts that way toward Cordelia, her beset friend. Cordelia won the art contest, did you know that?"

"I didn't," Pam answered, "But I see why she won. Her painting of West Los Angeles from the ground up was impressive!"

Roger smiled. "Yeah, that was her. Cordelia really is an amazing artist."

"She's really humble about it too,"

"Hey, so are you," Roger said with a hint of calmness in his voice. "Mr. Thiebaud _loved_ that picture you drew yesterday."

"What picture?"

"You know, the one of the young man in the field of yellow roses…" It amazed Pam how composed Roger was whether he was speaking to her, or Mr. Thiebaud, or any of the artists at the convention. It seemed like nothing ever fazed him. Pam yearned to have that quality.

Pam blushed. "Oh… that one."

**III**

_It was during free time the previous day, right after a lecture, and about an hour before dinner. She and Roger had been outside, sitting on a bench right outside of the art museum, chatting about the lecture they had gone to on the work of Banksy, a British street artist. The two of them had been heatedly arguing over whether or not Banksy's creations should be considered art, or vandalism. Pam was listening to Roger's perspective on it, when she had begun idly sketching. At first, she had started drawing a tree that was just across from them, but then, a photograph had fallen from inside her sketchbook and onto the ground. She bent down to pick it up, and found that was the picture that Jim had sent to her – of him in a field of yellow roses in Australia. Pam had no idea how it had gotten inside of her sketchbook, since she had last put it on her dresser. At first, Pam was going to put it back inside, because it always cut her fresh each time she saw it, however, she also felt the need to sketch Jim, because she hadn't done so since submitting the picture of him from Prom to the art contest._

_She was sketching the picture, not taking her eyes off of it, while listening to Roger banter about Banksy's controversial work at the same time. Pam had become so absorbed in her work, and didn't even notice when someone had sat down to her right. As she was putting the finishing touches on the drawing, a deep voice next to her said, "Wow. I wish I could've done that at your age."_

_Pam jumped, finding herself facing Mr. Thiebaud. "Thank you," Pam mumbled quickly, as she tried to close her sketchbook._

"_May I see it?"_

_Pam hesitated, turning to Roger, who winked at her. She turned back to Mr. Thiebaud, and nodded timidly, as she handed her sketchbook to him. He spent what seemed like an eternity looking at her drawing of Jim. "I love it," he said to her. "You have incredible talent."_

"_Thank you," Pam replied. She closed her sketchbook and hoped that he wouldn't start to ask any more questions._

"_Whose the young man in your drawing?"_

"_Nobody," Pam lied. It wasn't that she wanted to lie to either Roger or Mr. Thiebaud, or that she didn't want to talk about Jim, it was just that she wasn't ready to… yet. She felt like Jim was apart of her, __belonged to her, and she didn't want anybody to have a piece of that yet, especially since Jim was still alive. She turned to Roger, "Listen, Roger, I… I have to go. And Mr. Thiebaud," she said in a rush, taking his hand and shaking it, "It was a real honor to meet you! Truly!" Pam picked up her things and ran off, ignoring Roger's cries to return._

**IV**

"So Pam," Roger said, bringing Pam back to reality, "You _do_ have talent. Cordelia's seen some of your stuff too, and she agrees that you're pretty close to her level. She's actually an art student here at Princeton."

"Really?" Pam said, still a bit dazed by her thoughts.

"Yeah," Roger replied. "Who knows? That could be you, someday."

Pam smiled.

"Listen, I gotta run, but think about it, okay? I know you're a bit doubtful about applying to art schools, but give it a shot, okay? Later!" Pam watched as Roger ran off toward the East College, where his dorm room was located.

Pam walked back to her dorm room deep in thought. She thought about all the praise she'd been receiving for her work, and the realization that Mithra hadn't received any instantly hit her. She was, by far, a better artist than Mithra, and she was capable of accomplishing much, and of becoming successful with an artistic career. She was grateful that she had decided to go to the art convention, grateful that Jim had persuaded her to do so, and grateful for the all the help she was receiving from Roger and other artists. Walking back to her dorm, Pam realized that nothing could go wrong, and that nothing could hold her back.

Or could there?

**V**

_Pam was sitting on something, she could feel it. She just didn't know what it was. She looked around, and horror instantly hit her like a ton of bricks._

_She was inside the Ferris wheel gondola, with no way of escaping. "How did I get in here!" Pam questioned, terrified. She banged on the window, trying to get someone's attention. At first, she tried to alert Jim to her predicament, but all that remained of him underneath the cherry tree was a small pile of dust. "JIM! NO! HELP!" Pam banged on the door, but to no avail. She gave up, and leaned against the seat, tears streaming down her face, all hope lost._

_Suddenly, the Ferris wheel began spinning faster and faster. "Somebody stop it!" Pam shrieked, as she held onto the bottom of the seat for dear life. "STOP!" She looked out the window again and saw the pair of eyes she had tried to get away from in her previous dream. They looked imposing, and seemed to be staring down at her disapprovingly. In desperation, Pam whimpered, "Stop it!"_

"_I can stop it."_

_The mysterious silhouette materialized in front of her and took a seat across from where Pam was sitting. "I can stop it on one condition."_

"_What's that?"_

"_If you stay with me."_


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

**I**

Pam was in frenzy, feverishly packing all her luggage so that she could get out and onto the road just in time to beat the traffic. After a dinner banquet and lavish "art exhibit" the previous evening, where everybody dressed up impeccably and viewed artwork from the other participants, the annual Princeton University Art Convention had come to an end.

Pam surveyed her dorm room for the final time, checking to see that she hadn't missed anything before turning again to her suitcase. She looked at all the mementos that she had collected while at the convention – the hideously gray shirt she had received the first day, a brand new sketchbook she had bought from the university bookstore, along with a brand new set of pencils and erasers, and two sweatshirts with the Princeton logo on the left side. One was blue, and the other one was black. The blue one was for her, and the black one was for Jim, as he had provided Pam with several souvenirs from his summer travels. Finally, a manila folder lay on top of all these things, which contained all of Pam's artwork from her stay at the convention, along with notes from Roger, Mr. Thiebaud, Cordelia, and other artists and participants, who praised her work.

She turned again and reached for her digital camera, which was standing on her dresser. Pictures of her with Roger, Mr. Thiebaud and Cordelia, who had turned out not only to be a brilliant artist, but a genuinely kind and compassionate person as well, were stored inside. Shots of her standing in front of the many "landmarks" on the Princeton campus, such as the McCarter Theater and the University Chapel, had also been captured on her camera, memories that would stay with her forever. She smiled as she looked at the multiple photographs before finally turning her camera off and placing it inside her book bag. After throwing her book bag over her left shoulder, Pam zipped up her luggage, picked it up, and walked out of her dorm room at Princeton University for the final time.

Pam had gotten to her car and was putting her luggage in the trunk when Roger's familiar, melodic voice called out to her. "Pam!" She turned around after closing the trunk and locking it to find herself facing both Roger and Mr. Thiebaud.

"Hey," she said, attempting once again to sound casual.

"Hi," Roger returned, holding out a manila folder to Pam. "Mr. Thiebaud found this and figured that you would want it back."

"What is it?" Pam inquired, curious to know what was inside the folder.

"I think you'll know what it is the minute you see it," Mr. Thiebaud said knowingly.

Pam took the folder from Roger's hands and opened it, her breath catching in her throat as it always did whenever she saw this drawing. It was her drawing of Jim on Prom night, when both of their lives had changed forever.

"H – how did you get this?" Pam wondered aloud, staring at both Roger and Mr. Thiebaud.

Mr. Thiebaud smiled and replied, "During the judging process, the judges… and myself, had a very hard time deciding what to do with this picture you had drawn here. It really threw us for a loop. You see, Miss Beesly, we always get a plethora of artwork from high school students like yourself, but it's not often that someone like you, with so much talent, enters a piece of work like yours. We deliberated for a long time over what to do about you. After the judging process, we always send the original piece of artwork back to the person who sent it, but we felt that we needed to keep it, so we made a copy," he indicated to Pam's drawing, "and returned the original to your art teacher. Shortly afterwards, we chose to place your drawing…. so the original work you did, and the notification, reached your art teacher on different days."

"I see," Pam nodded, flattered. "Thank you for giving this to me." Even though she had the original work, Pam knew that she would treasure this forever. In fact, she thought about keeping the copy and giving the original to someone else who would also treasure it.

"When I was going through all my luggage and work, I came across this," Mr. Thiebaud said. "I remembered that drawing I had seen of yours from earlier in the week, and I couldn't help but wonder… is this the same young man?"

"Yes," Pam answered, "Yes it is."

Mr. Thiebaud nodded understandingly.

"He's… he's my best friend," she said proudly, as she gently touched the artwork with her right hand. "His name is James," she finished, with a smile.

Mr. Thiebaud smiled and said, "Your friend must be very proud of your work." Pam nodded, and Mr. Thiebaud said, "Best of luck to you, Pam, and Roger." He smiled before turning around and leaving the two of them by themselves.

"So," Roger said, his mouth twitching, as he attempted a smile, "Your _best friend_, huh?"

"Yes," Pam replied, as she stared straight into Roger's deep brown eyes. "Since _birth_, practically."

Roger bit his bottom lip and said hesitatingly, "I… I really like you, Pam. And before you told me about your friend, I was hoping that maybe there could be something between… you know, _us_."

"Like a long distance relationship?" Pam asked.

"Yeah," Roger answered. "Something like that." He clasped Pam's hands, squeezing them, while staring at her intently.

Pam found herself letting go and saying, "No, Roger. I can't."

"It's because of James, isn't it?"

"Jim, actually," she replied, wringing her hands. "And yes. It's because of him, why we can't be together."

"Do you love him?"

The question struck her in the heart, almost like a blunt sword. She was petrified at Roger's question, not really knowing how to reply. She knew what the answer was, what the truth was, but as she stared at Roger, at his striking face, his gigantic eyes reading into her, almost like Jim's did, the sharpness, yet delicacy of his nose, and his mouth, having that freshness that seemed so rare on a pair of lips… it occurred to Pam at that very moment that if she kissed Roger, that his lips would taste satisfyingly ripe, like fruit. She tried not to think about Roger as she continued to stare at him, however, she couldn't help but recall the dreams that had been haunting her mind this past week. The dream that spoke the irrevocable truth that she did not want to hear: that Jim would soon be gone.

"But you'll be here. You'll always be here," she thought, as she averted her eyes away from Roger, who waited eagerly for a reply. Her heart and her mind were telling her two different things. Her heart was telling her to stay with the one she wanted, but who would soon be leaving, while her head was telling her to go with the more practical choice, to go with the one who would be around, who would always be there.

For a moment, she considered what her life would be like with Roger – the two of them would be able to have endless conversations about art, and there would be little tensions between them, as they shared the same passions. They both had great futures and their lives ahead of them. They could do anything, be anything, they wanted. It would be an exciting life, but would the thrill of being with Roger Bateman eventually wear off?

On the other hand, she felt that Jim was her other half. He knew her inside and out: her ambitions, her quirks, her personality, likes, and dislikes, to the freckles just below her left knee that formed the shape of a star. Would she even be here right now if Jim hadn't encouraged her to take a new shot at life? Would she be here, facing Roger, if he had never written the words in her yearbook that had encouraged her, at last, to follow her dreams?

"Roger," Pam breathed slowly. "I do. Love him, I mean."

"Okay," Roger sighed, pursing his lips, letting the words trail off into an awkward silence.

"We can still be friends," Pam offered, breaking the tension. "And I'm not just saying that, I mean it. You – you have no idea how much your kindness and friendship has meant to me this past week."

Roger gave Pam a sad, tentative smile before asking her for her address.

"E – mail," she suggested decidedly. "For now, at least."

Roger nodded, resigned, as he got out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. He scribbled something before tearing it off and handing it to Pam, along with the notepad and pen. Pam scribbled her e – mail and handed it to Roger, who then pocketed the two items, and held out his hand to Pam.

She grabbed Roger's hand and shook it, then leaned in to give him a hug.

"Good – bye, Roger, and thank you for everything," she said, with gratitude.

"I hope we'll see each other again, Pam," he returned, as he continued to hold on to her.

"We will," Pam said, as she released herself from Roger's embrace. She walked away from Roger and hopped into her car, driving away from Princeton University, and giving Roger a final wave.

All was well, Pam decided, as she continued driving. Jim was returning home soon, she had improved on her art, gained confidence, made friends, and actually managed to glare at a person. All was well in her life and in her dreams, even though she had yet to unmask the silhouette's identity.

**II**

_"Before you reveal yourself," Pam said boldly to the silhouette, "I need to do one thing."_

_She turned from the silhouette and opened the gondola window, letting the cold wind, cutting against her skin, into the gondola. She reached out and grabbed the longest, sharpest branch from the nearest tree. She leaned out even further and fiercely poked the eyes that had been staring at her so condescendingly. Thick, red liquid oozed from the eyes and covered the sky in a deep, cherry wine color. The wind continued to blow severely, and it carried the dust up into the gondola. Pam reached out and grabbed the dust, holding onto it firmly before turning to face the silhouette once more, ready to conquer it._


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen**

**I**

He had missed her. He missed the way she tucked her auburn hair behind her ears when it fell into her face, the way she would turn and glance at him pointedly whenever he made a smart remark. He missed her laugh and the manner in which she would crinkle her nose when she did. He missed her mouth, not only for her intelligent remarks, but found himself longing to kiss it as well. He missed her eyes, deep swirls of dark brown staring intently at him and listening to not just what he was saying, but also what he _wasn't_. He had missed her.

After spending ten weeks in Australia and Switzerland, Jim was back home in Scranton, his hometown. While he had been on vacation, Jim had seen sights that he thought he'd never see, been to places where he thought he would never go, and tried things that he never would've dreamed of doing. While on his vacation, he had tried his best to live up to James Dean's famous words, "Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today." He had grown during those ten weeks, became more aware of the world around him, embracing life and loving it, for better or for worse, and so far, he had been successful in the goal he had set with his father, to make this year the best.

He had improved his quality of life, not physically, but emotionally and mentally, and he yearned for Pam to see that. He wanted her to see that even though his physical condition was deteriorating, his spirit wasn't. He longed to see her, and hoped that by attending the art convention and breaking up with Roy that she too had improved her life.

Jim had been lounging idly on the couch, dozing in and out of consciousness when his father walked into the family room and sat in the chair across from him. It reminded Jim of Prom, when he had revealed everything to Pam, when afterwards, Jared, who had returned to George Washington University for his final year of graduate school the previous night, had had a conversation with Jim, and had given him the profound advice to which he faithfully kept.

"Hi Dad," he said, as he sat up to stare at him. "Day off today?"

His father nodded and smiled. "I've been taking a lot of them lately."

"I'm glad that you are."

Mr. Halpert nodded again and asked his son, "When do you plan on seeing Pam again?"

"I don't know, Dad," Jim sighed. "I don't know what to say to her."

"Hm," Mr. Halpert mused as he lay back in his chair and seemed to be thinking otherwise.

"Well…" Jim faltered, "I've missed her these past weeks. I – I want to tell her that, but otherwise, Dad… I don't really know. I – I just wish that things would go back to the way they were, when all that we'd worry about would be what prank we should play on Dwight." He paused while his father laughed heartily at his last comment and continued; "Now it just feels like everything between us is heavy. Who would've thought that one revelation would change everything? I – I can never go back, and I hate that, Dad."

His father shook his head and said, "There's no turning back at anything in life. You can't change the past, or worry about the future, you can only live in today. But Son, that doesn't mean everything has to be all gloom and doom, despite what our family is going through right now… you can still laugh."

"That's what Jared told me earlier."

"And it's true, Son. It always has been… I never thought I'd say this, but I've started to miss your practical jokes," Mr. Halpert said, grinning. "And you still have _yet_ to plan your annual first day of school prank on Dwight. Why don't you head into your room and get that book of yours –"

"The Ultimate Book of Pranks?"

"Yes, that one, and you can choose what you want to do… surprisingly, I'm looking forward to getting that annual first day of school phone call from the principal. You know, the one we've always gotten from your school principals since you were young, telling us to come to the office to have a talk with you to stop pranking Dwight. This year, I can't wait to be the one to say that I encouraged it."

Jim nodded, feeling rather surprised. "It'll be the first time you won't ground me for being a disruption the first day." He got off the couch and began walking to his room. He walked slower now, moved more slowly than he had in years past. "_Things are changing_," Jim thought. "_Who would've thought that Dad would come tolerate my practical jokes? Or that it would take me an eternity to walk from the family room to my bedroom_?" Jim finally reached his bedroom door, turning the knob with both hands, his right resting on top of his left as he did so.

When he opened it, his room looked completely different from when he had first left it this morning. Over a hundred red balloons were piled all over his bedroom floor and silver and gold streamers cascaded the ceiling. Red, gold, silver and blue confetti was everywhere. Against it all was an elaborate blue banner, with a golden border. Written in elegant, silver calligraphy were the words, "_Welcome Home, Jim_!"

Jim looked around in awe of the display, trying to figure out who had assembled all this together. Just then, a figure emerged from the back – her hair, which she usually wore in curls, was straightened, and to her mid back, a rare occurrence. She wore a fitted blue shirt, and khaki pants, which seemed to fill her out nicely. Her face seemed to be glowing. She wore some make – up, not a whole lot, but just enough that brought out the soft features of her face and the light that she was radiating from within. This young woman had truly blossomed.

She took a step toward him quietly, with a playful sort of smile on her face. She grabbed his shoulders and kissed him, and when she stopped, let herself fall into his embrace. She looked up at him and said, "I've missed you, Jim."

**II**

She had missed him. She missed his incessant ability to play pranks and to make others laugh. It was a gift, she realized, a gift to bring laughter and joy to others. She missed his smile, the smile that seemed to come so naturally to him. She loved how real and natural Jim's emotions and reactions were, and she loved his honesty. She missed his eyes too – earnest, and bright, curious about everyone and everything. She remembered the first time she had truly stared into them, had drawn them on paper, the moment she had realized there was a uniqueness to them. It had never left her. She also missed his love. She had missed him.

Pam pulled herself away from Jim and continued to take him in, the sight of him, his mere presence. She had noticed, and he walked into his bedroom, the leg braces he was wearing, and how difficult it had become for Jim to walk. He moved more slowly, more cautiously now. Also, it seemed as though Jim was thinner each time she saw him, his limbs becoming finer and more delicate with each passing day. To her relief, however, his face wasn't the sickly pale it had been the last time she had seen him. Instead, it appeared that Jim had gotten some sun while on vacation, as his skin was tanned slightly. She exhaled slowly, and said, "Welcome back, Halpert."

Jim grinned at her and returned, "Welcome back, Beesly. So tell me about the art convention," he said, as he pulled some balloons from off his bed, sat, and motioned for Pam to sit next to him.

"It was amazing!" Pam gushed. "People – artists, everywhere! People always had their sketchbooks out, or people would just set their easels out in the middle of the courtyard and would start painting! And Wayne Thiebaud was the program director, and Jim, it was just… _wonderful_! I learned so much while I was there!" She paused, noticing Jim's eyes, how he was interested in what she had to say. She breathed again and said, "Thank you Jim, for encouraging me to go. I don't think I would've gone if you hadn't been the one to tell me to follow my dreams."

"Anytime, Beesly," Jim said, flashing her the smile which she loved. "Can I see the drawings you did while there?"

Pam nodded and handed her sketchbook to Jim, which had been sitting on Jim's bed the entire time. He opened the sketchbook and studied each drawing Pam did with rapt attention. Whether it was a vase, or a tree, or a bowl of fruit, Jim took the time to look at it, to give Pam his opinion of the drawing, to compliment it. The only drawing Jim hadn't seen was the drawing Pam had done of him in the field of yellow roses. She had torn it out because it wasn't finished yet, and she wanted to do more work on it – add color, and bring it to life.

"By the way," Pam added, "I got you something." When Jim had finished looking through Pam's sketchbook, she handed him the black sweatshirt she had gotten for him at the university bookstore. He smiled when she handed it to him, and instantly put it on.

"Thanks, Beesly," Jim said, surveying the logo on the sweatshirt.

"You're welcome," Pam returned. After that, the two of them continued to stare at each other, not saying anything, but taking the other person in. "_I could stare at you forever_," Pam thought.

She became distracted when Jim had turned to his right and called out, "Hey Dad!"

Mr. Halpert was standing in the doorway, observing the work Pam had put in to surprise Jim. She had called Mr. Halpert yesterday morning at his work, asking if she could put something together for Jim. He had agreed, and seemed happy with all the work Pam had done. "Wow," he said, as he stepped into Jim's room. "You did a great job with this, Pam."

"Thanks, Mr. Halpert," she said. "I had a good time putting this together."

"You never cease to surprise me, the two of you," Jim said, laughing. "I love it, Pam. I really do."

"So Jim," Mr. Halpert said, in a light, yet serious tone, "I see you haven't gotten that book down like I asked you to."

"Oh yeah!" Jim exclaimed. He turned to Pam and said, "Do you want to help me play a prank on Dwight on the first day of school?"

"Absolutely I do!" Pam replied.

**III**

Later that night, as Pam was getting for bed, it occurred to her that she hadn't had the dream for several days now. Each night, the dream had been the same. The moment she had been prepared for her final showdown against the silhouette would be the very moment in which Pam would waken from her dream just as baffled as she had been the previous night. She found it frustrating, yet oddly comforting, that _maybe_ the reason why her dream was being interrupted was because her subconscious was trying to cut her a break, to prepare her for what was to come.

Pam was determined, however, to find out who the mysterious silhouette was. She decided that she would find out no matter what. Besides, she had a few days before her senior year started, a few days before she would have to return to the halls of Scranton High School, and see the people she dreaded seeing, except for Jim. She crawled into bed, shut out the light and closed her eyes, determined to unmask the silhouette's identity.

**IV**

_She was back inside the gondola again, facing the silhouette, dust in her hand. She was ready to throw it into the silhouette's eyes, to blind him and stop him from messing with her mind._

"_Tell me who you are," she commanded._

"_You should know by now," the silhouette retorted coldly. "We've known each other for a long time, you and I."_

_Pam scrutinized the silhouette, trying to get a more in – depth look into him, but all she could see was black. Feelings confusion and inferiority consumed her, feelings she had experienced once before. These feelings were familiar to her…__**eerily **__familiar._

"_I __**do **__know you," Pam mused, "But only vaguely," she added, remembering the silhouette's words from earlier. She looked at the silhouette again, who was lying idly on the gondola bench, seeming to be only concerned with his thoughts. He didn't seem to care that Pam was there, yet he demanded so much of her. Pam stood still, looking at the silhouette, pondering him._

_The realization hit her, and she was horrified, and could not breathe for just a moment, for the silhouette was now melting, and Pam was now scared to know that she was right._

_The silhouette was someone who only wanted __**something **__from her, who demanded the entire world and pouted when things didn't go his way. Someone who felt that his way was the only way, and whenever Pam tried to suggest something different, he would look down on her and tell her that she was stupid… the first time she met him, he was great – athletic, handsome, strong, a leader… and also a good actor, Pam would come to find, as she had unmasked the front he had been putting on for several years. She thought she knew this person, but she never __**did **__get to know him, the real him, until much later, and it was only then that Pam had come to realize how much time she had wasted._

_Standing in front of her, large, with plain brown hair, his blue eyes glaring at her, was Roy Anderson, and he was ready to put up a fight._


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty**

**I**

Scranton High School was a small, outdoor campus. The gray buildings surrounded the quad area, which was adjacent to the even grayer lockers. The quad was the very center, and the students would mingle there before classes started, and during passing periods and lunch. Students of all ages were gathered in the quad today – the new freshman toting their too large backpacks and lunchboxes, the sophomores, their backpacks noticeably smaller, looking eager to see what the perks were of _not_ being freshmen anymore were, and the juniors, who were finally upperclassmen, looking haughty and arrogant, some of them sporting car keys.

Then, there were the seniors. Everybody knew who they were because there were only nineteen of them. These nineteen seniors compromised Scranton High School's smallest senior class to ever walk the hallways of this particular campus. All the younger students knew who these seniors were, as did the teachers, because they had taught the entire senior class at least once. The seniors themselves knew each other like a well – worn book. They all knew the personalities, likes and dislikes of their fellow classmates. For instance, they knew that Stanley enjoyed doing crossword puzzles as opposed to actual work and that Angela had an obsession with cats. They knew that Oscar was the president of the _Finer Things Club_. The seniors knew that Jan, Karen, Ryan and Andy were all more ambitious than was healthy and that the four of them had been fighting to be president of the Future Business Leaders of America since the start of their freshman year. The seniors also knew that even though Kevin _appeared_ to be slow that he _did_ have a brain…somewhere. They also knew that Michael was prone to say, "That's what she said!" at any given moment. The seniors of Scranton High School knew just about everything about their fellow classmates. They also knew that Phyllis was the gossip queen and that they had to be careful about their words and actions unless they wanted it to be talked about among the Scranton High School student body.

This was the exact reason why Jim didn't want to be at Scranton High School. This was the reason why he had begged his parents at the end of last year to home school him. This was why Jim wanted to be _anywhere_ but at Scranton High School. The only two things he had to look forward to were seeing Pam and pulling his first day of school prank on Dwight. Jim knew it was coming – he knew that classmates and teachers were going to be scrutinizing him, commenting on how it appeared that he had deteriorated over the summer, how he had dropped a full clothing size, and then some, in just ten weeks. Before he left for Australia, he had asked his parents if he could be home schooled – they said no, because it was important to follow Doctor Mifflin's instructions to lead a _normal _life for as long as possible, even though there was nothing _normal_ about the situation. It made Jim want to rip his hair out.

Instead, he found himself at his locker, where he opened it and was just staring at the emptiness of it. He only wanted to talk to one person, and that person was Pam. He checked his watch – it was seven twenty four, and school would be starting in six minutes. Pam still wasn't here, and she was the one who had all the materials that they were going to be using for the prank on Dwight. He was about to shut his locker when he heard a "Hey Halpert!" from behind him.

He turned around and faced Pam, whose hair was back to its natural curl. Still, she looked as beautiful as ever. "Beesly," Jim smiled, "Do you have everything ready for our prank?"

"Absolutely I do!" Pam exclaimed as she handed a large brown bag over to Jim.

Jim peeked inside the bag, and smiled. "_Excellent_, Beesly."

**II**

"Welcome to Homeroom, seniors," sighed Mrs. Smoterich-Barr in her pessimistic sounding monotone. "As you know, you will all report to Homeroom before you attend the rest of your classes. This will be your period where you will get to study for your other classes and do other _productive_ – " she shot a glare at Jim, "things, such as reading…" While Mrs. Smoterich – Barr continued talking, Jim was ready to give Pam the signal to initiate their prank on Dwight, who was paying rapt attention to what their teacher was saying. Jim gave Pam the signal as Mrs. Smoterich – Barr had a new student, Holly Flax, from South Carolina, introduce herself. Pam winked at Jim and stealthily put a piece of paper on Dwight's desk while he wasn't looking. In nice, yet rough handwriting, it read:

_Young Padawan:_

_Congratulations on your acceptance into the Jedi Training Academy. You have been selected among a large group of people to uphold this sacred honor. At the end of the period, report to your locker where you will receive your additional training materials. We look forward to watching you grow and become a true Jedi master._

_Yours in The Force,_

_Obi – Wan Kenobi_

_Yoda_

Dwight finished reading the letter and stared up in awe as Jim and Pam stifled a few giggles. At that moment, Jim raised his hand and asked Mrs. Smoterich – Barr for a restroom pass.

**III**

After Homeroom had ended, the two friends mingled in the quad area, waiting once again for the next phase of their prank to pass. Dwight opened his locker, where there was a cheap, lime green light saber and a brown robe, which were bought at some cheap costume shop, with another note accompanying it:

_Young Padawan:_

_Congratulations on accepting your place in the Jedi Training Academy. This is your light saber, and your Jedi robe, which you will use to fight the evil forces. Try to get as much practice in as possible, for the Dark Side will be making an appearance sometime today. Only __**you **__will be able to stop it._

_Yours in The Force,_

_Obi – Wan Kenobi_

_Yoda_

Dwight read the note once again and looked at his "new" Jedi training supplies. Making sure that no one was looking, he pulled the light saber out of his locker. Taking his apprentice duties seriously, Dwight practiced the Jedi sword fighting tricks that he had honed over the years by watching all the Star Wars films. He didn't notice the snickering that was all around him until he looked up and was staring at Angela, his girlfriend, and the new student, Holly. Holly's eyes were large and her mouth was wide open. She walked off with a horrified, yet amused look on her face, while Angela walked off, glaring contemptibly at Dwight. Jim and Pam laughed and high – fived each other, glad to know that their prank was, so far, a success.

Jim and Pam laid low with the final phase of their prank until fourth period, the period before lunchtime, in which they placed a final note on Dwight's desk, informing him that the Dark Forces were looming, and that they were planning on destroying the very student body of Scranton High School. The note went on to explain that it was up to Dwight to get rid of these dark forces, which would be looming at the front entrance of the school during lunchtime. Once again, both Jim and Pam asked for restroom passes in their separate classes.

**IV**

Nobody was eating at lunchtime. The lunch tables were empty, as was the quad area, which was usually where the remaining students mingled during lunch. Instead, all the students were assembled at the front of the school, watching in awe and amusement at Dwight, who was clad in his Jedi robes and hitting a fake, life – sized Darth Vader, accompanied with three life – sized Storm Troopers with his cheap light saber.

"I have _The Force_!" Dwight shouted at the life – sized figurines. "_The Force_ is with me!" He hit the figurines again, but they stayed in place. Dwight screamed in frustration and let out a few swear words as the crowd continued to laugh.

Jim turned to Pam and said, "Pam, I'm going to write the _longest_ thank you note to your dad for choosing to report on that _Stars Wars_ Convention last weekend," he laughed, giving her a high – five.

"Who knew so much entertainment could be provided with some leftover life – sized figurines, some superglue and a costume from a cheap costume store?" Pam suppressed a giggle as the two of them continued to watch Dwight attempt to bring down the "Dark Side". Dwight provided much entertainment for the Scranton High School student body for the entire lunch period. However, the entertainment soon ended when Mr. Brown, the school principal, walked out to the front of the school, looking rather angry.

Standing next to Dwight, he said, "As… hilarious as this little show was, this is considered a defacement of school property." He summoned two school custodians, who attempted to pick up the Darth Vader figurine, but to no avail. They stood up and checked the Storm Trooper figurines, and found that they couldn't pick them up either. The custodians informed Mr. Brown of this, who continued talking. "Because these figurines have been super glued to the ground, getting them off of school property will take a lot of time, and may cost money…." He sighed, and turned to Dwight. "And Mr. Schrute," Mr. Brown said condescendingly, "What made you think that dressing up as a Jedi Knight would get these figurines to go away? Pure entertainment, perhaps?"

The students laughed, and Dwight dropped the light saber. He was blushing deeply when he sputtered, "No sir, I wasn't doing this to _entertain_. I was informed, via three letters, that the Dark Side would be invading our school campus at lunchtime today. I was told that _I_ was the only one who could stop it."

"Mr. Schrute, you _do_ realize that Star Wars is entirely fiction, correct?" Dwight ignored Mr. Brown, who then said, "Dwight, let me see the letters, please." Dwight, still blushing furiously, retrieved the three letters from his pocket and handed them to the principal, who scanned through the letters quickly, and then turned back to Dwight. He asked, "What made you think these were _real_?"

At this point, Jim and Pam, along with Holly, Michael and Kevin, were in hysterics. Dwight glared at Michael before saying, "Sometimes The Force just speaks to me. Whether or not it is fake is not for me to say."

Mr. Brown put a hand to his head and muttered, "Oh dear God," before turning again to face Dwight. "This was obviously a prank pulled by a student, who obviously finds these antics to be rather humorous. Mr. Schrute, can you think of anyone who would find this sort of thing to be hysterical?"

At that moment, Dwight turned from Mr. Brown and glared at Jim. "I suspect Halpert."

**V**

"I see that things haven't changed, _James_," Mr. Brown lectured as he stared down at Jim in his office. "According to your records, every year on the first day of school since the sixth grade, for reasons that your teachers and principals over the years, and that _I_ can't explain, you have found it to be rather amusing to prank Mr. Schrute. Mr. Halpert, do you realize that you also defaced school property with the superglue?"

"Yes sir," Jim replied nonchalantly.

"Can you tell me why you found this to be amusing?"

"Well sir, I do need to keep up with tradition, and I'm a senior this year, so I figured that I needed to start things off with a bang."

Mr. Brown nodded seriously. "James, I will have to call your parents to inform them of this, and I will have to suspend you from school for the rest of the day, and for tomorrow as well. At Scranton High School, we want all of our students to feel accepted. I know that Mr. Schrute can be hard to deal with, but pulling pranks on him is not the way to solve the problem. Before school started this year, I hoped that you had done some growing up over the summer, but it seems apparent that you haven't."

_Oh you have __**no idea**__, Mr. Brown_, Jim wanted to tell the principal. _I've grown up more in three months than Dwight ever will in a year._

"And James, you also need to keep in mind that next year you will be entering the real world, and that the _real world_ does not tolerate things like this. It won't be tolerated at the university you choose to go to, or in your career… really, Mr. Halpert, you're at the end of your prankster ways."

_Thanks, Mr. Brown. You've just given me more of an excuse to pull more pranks this year. I'm gonna kick the bucket soon anyway, so I might as well leave my mark at Scranton High School in a way that no one, not even __**you**__, will forget._

"James, you do have a car to get you home, correct?"

"I do," Jim answered.

"Right. So, I'm going to be giving your parents a call, and I'm sure they'll know about it by the time you get home."

"Alright, sir."

**VI**

When Jim walked through the door, his father was on the phone. "Yes sir," his father said. "I will be having a chat with James about what happened today… you know, I actually think its quite hysterical…. Yes, I know _you _don't find it funny, but _I_ do. It was actually my idea…. No, really, it was. Yes, thank you." Mr. Halpert hung up the phone and turned to his son. "I heard all about it," he said, laughing.

Jim smiled and said, "I wish I could've seen Mr. Brown's face after you hung up the phone!"

_Today had been a good day_, Jim decided, and he remained determined to make the rest of his days just as great as this one had been, with pranks on Dwight included.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**I**

Once again, Pam found herself having the same dream over and over again. She would be standing across from the silhouette, dust in hand, ready to overcome it and move on with her life. The first night, and for every night since then, the silhouette would melt and take on the form of Roy Anderson.

Each time, Pam was ready to confront him, only for her consciousness to return. After waking up, she would lie in bed, attempting to get back to sleep, but to no avail. The dream had occurred every night up until the first day of her senior year of high school. Once again, Pam felt that her subconscious knew her needs better than she did.

At first, she assumed that she was supposed to simply ignore Roy. That first day back at Scranton High School, it wasn't hard to do. After all, she and Jim were initiating their first day of school prank on Dwight, and she was acting dutifully as his sleuthing accomplice. The two of them shared numerous laughs as they watched Dwight attempt to bring down the "Dark Side". She was now on the phone with Jim, discussing the results of their prank.

"I can't believe Dwight actually fell for that," Pam told her best friend over the phone. "You would think that he'd be able to tell the difference between reality and fiction!"

"That's Dwight for you," Jim replied, laughing. "He _likes_ to think that anything to do with dark forces or with spaceships is real. Last year in English class, our teacher asked us to write a short autobiography on ourselves, and Dwight managed to work in three pages about how he won a pod race."

Pam managed a weak laugh and continued, "So, what did Principal Brown say to you after he sent you to his office?"

"I got suspended for the rest of the school day, and for tomorrow, too," Jim answered casually. "It's not a big deal, really. He lectured me on how he expected me to do some 'growing up' over the summer, and how the real world won't tolerate my 'prankster ways'." He finished speaking with an edge of bitterness to his voice.

"Oh Jim… I'm so sorry," Pam sighed. "It wasn't just you who orchestrated the prank… I should've been there in the office with you too accepting the punishment."

"It's okay, Pam, really. I didn't want to go to school today, anyway. In fact, spending my days at Scranton High School is the _last thing_ I want to do right now."

"Really?"

"Yeah… hey, listen, I'm probably going to be at _Cugino's _tomorrow. Why don't you come by there after school and you can tell me more about the hell hole that Scranton High School really is?"

Pam laughed and said, "Alright, Jim. See you tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

"Bye." After Pam hung up the phone, she retreated to her computer, where she was looking at an e – mail that Roger had sent her. It was about admissions to some of the best art schools in the country. Princeton was on the list, as was Yale, and the California Institute of the Arts. Pam clicked out of the e – mail and moaned inwardly. What was Roger thinking? She had told them that they could be friends, and that was it. Instead, she had been getting frequent e – mails like these from him, and she hated them. Pam didn't want to be thinking about college right now, especially after the first day of school. Like Jim, she didn't want to be at Scranton High School, but that didn't mean that she wanted to be thinking about college either, especially since Jim wasn't going to be around to experience it with her.

Pam was home alone for the night – her father was working late, and her mother had gone out to dinner with a few of her friends. She liked quiet, solitary nights like these – she found herself retrieving her sketchbook and drawing a picture Jim, his eyes gleaming, his smile mischievous, from today, during their prank on Dwight. The sketch was going quite well, and Pam was proud of how efficiently it was coming along, when the doorbell distracted her; at its obnoxious tune, Pam accidently let her pencil slide across Jim's face, leaving a crooked line.

"Shoot," Pam snapped frustratingly as she closed her sketchbook quickly and went to answer the door. Pam let her mouth drop in horror as she took in the person in front of her, the very person who she hoped she would never see again, the one who had been haunting her dreams for several weeks.

**II**

"Roy," Pam said darkly, "What do you want?"

"Can we talk?" Roy pleaded, both with his voice, and blue eyes.

Pam wasn't convinced. "I suppose we could," she said, her voice icy. "What do you want?"

"I ended things with Tara," Roy said. "You're the one I want, Pam. I know that I took you for granted, that I wasn't exactly the best boyfriend, and I'm sorry about that. But if you give me another chance, I'm willing to make up for it, and more. Please, Pam."

"No Roy, I've had enough," Pam said, as she started to shut the door, only for Roy to bar it by entering Pam's house halfway through.

"_Please_, Pam."

She rolled her eyes and let Roy come in all the way. She led him to the couch, where she left her sketchbook. "I've moved on," she told him, and she picked up her sketchbook and erased the terrible, jagged line from Jim's face before handing it to Roy, who appeared to be scrutinizing the sketch with disgust.

"_Halpert_!" Roy exclaimed. "You could move on with _anyone_, and you pick _Halpert_?" He looked at Pam bewilderingly before saying, "I knew the two of you were friends, and that you were close… closer than I would've liked you to be, but I can't believe this."

"I never cheated on you," Pam snarled coldly. "I had all those opportunities to cheat on you while I was with Jim, and did I? _No_, I didn't. But now I wish that maybe I would have, so that we wouldn't have to be having this discussion right now, so that this whole mess would've ended earlier." She watched as Roy sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "Stop acting like this is hard for you!"

"You think it's easy?" Roy spat. "The one who I _love_ is telling me that she wishes that she would've cheated on me long ago! How do you think I feel about this? I just told the girl that _I love_ that I want her, and she's telling me that she's moved on with her best friend!"

"You don't love me, and you never did," Pam retorted. "If you really did, you never would've fallen for that… _Tara_. You would've listened to me whenever I was talking to you, you would've truly known what my likes, dislikes and interests were. If you loved me, you wouldn't have tried to hold me back when I wanted to go to the art convention! I ended things with you in July! It's already been over for a long time!"

"Pam, please!" Roy begged. "Forgive me, please!"

Pam breathed out slowly and said dangerously, "Just go, Roy."

"But Pam – "

"Just _go_, Roy!" She led him to the door and opened it, waiting for him to walk through it and to be gone from her house, and her life.

Before he left, Roy asked, "So you never loved me?"

"I _thought_ I did," Pam admitted. "But I've been able to think about a lot of things this past summer, and what I thought was love was really… nothing."

"Do you love Halpert?"

"I believe so," Pam answered firmly.

"I still can't believe it," Roy said coolly. "Of _all people_, you pick _Jim Halpert_…"

"There's more to him than you think," Pam said. "Maybe you should get to know him."

Roy finally stepped out the door and turned around. "So I guess this is good – bye?"

"Yeah, I think it is," Pam replied. She held out her hand for Roy to shake. "It was quite the three years, wasn't it?"

Roy nodded as he finally let go of Pam's hand. She felt like he had held on to it for longer than was necessary. "It was," Roy said. "Those three years were good ones…" he sighed, his voice trailing off. "Well, good – bye, Pam." Pam nodded as she watched him walk to his car and drive off. She closed the door, feeling relieved.

Surprisingly, her argument with Roy had exhausted her to an extent, and so she found herself retiring to bed early.

**III**

_She was facing Roy once again. He went from instantly glaring at her to pleading with her._

"_I __**need **__you, Pam, please!"_

"_Not a chance, Roy," Pam replied defiantly. The dust was still in her hands. She didn't know what to do with it, until now. She stared down at it for the last time before throwing it._

_The dust landed on Roy – parts of it went into his eyes, and the rest of it coated his body, turning it black once again. Pam watched as Roy's hands flew up to his eyes, attempting to get the dust out, but it only continued to eat at him. Like a large swarm of flies, the dust continued to eat at Roy until he simply ceased to exist. Pam laughed triumphantly, opened the gondola door, and exited. She was now able to notice and take in the beauty of the sights around her. The cherry trees were healthy, and the cherries upon it were as ripe as ever. Although the landscape about her was still painted in pastels, it felt like a typical summer day, nice, with a slight breeze. And although Jim wasn't __**with **__her, she still knew he was there._

_At last, Roy Anderson was gone from her life._


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**I**

September gradually melted into October as the students of Scranton High School adjusted to their new routine of balancing classes with homework and making time for friends. By this time, Jim had grudgingly returned to school and had become so sick of the pettiness of his fellow classmates. He hated how none of them could see beyond high school and that so many of them were caught in the moment. It was as though none of them could perceive that there were bigger things in life than high school, and that there were other things to look forward to in life aside from who your date to the Homecoming dance was going to be. Then again, this also made Jim fear that if it weren't for his illness, that he too would be acting just as petty as his classmates currently were. He probably would've lost his mind by the fifth day of school if it weren't for Pam, and the fact that the two of them were now dating.

Jim was sitting with Pam by her locker while the rest of the seniors were walking to the counseling office to discuss their post high school plans with their counselors. Jim didn't want to go, knowing exactly what he would have to tell Mrs. Porter, his counselor, and Pam had chosen to stay behind with him.

"You know you didn't have to do this," Jim sighed, somewhat gratefully as he stroked his girlfriend's auburn tresses. "Unlike me, you actually _have_ options about what you want to do with your life."

"Well, not really," Pam admitted. "Remember our freshman year, when our counselors had us fill out our four year plan?" Jim nodded earnestly. "Well," Pam continued, "I didn't bother to jot down anything… I was so stupid. I was with Roy then, and you and I both know that Roy isn't exactly cut out for the university life…." Pam trailed off while Jim laughed and said, "The two of us had planned to stay here in Scranton after high school. He would go to community college and get a two-year degree, or he would find a job while I would attend university here in Scranton, or close by. Then, when I was done with school, we would take off from there…. So much for that, right?"

Jim kissed Pam's forehead and said earnestly, "Well, just because your original plan didn't work, it doesn't mean you can't plan again. You _do_ have options, Pam… more options than I do, anyway."

Pam returned the favor by giving Jim a kiss on the lips and said, "I know, but it'll just take a lot of thinking and preparation. I've never really been one to _prepare_ for anything, you know? I've always just been a go with the flow sort of person… and I guess I got stuck in that rut while I was with Roy."

"But you're not with Roy anymore," Jim grinned. "You're with _me_ now, and I say that you don't let Roy define who you become." He stared at Pam, happy that he was with her, grateful, that he could declare her as _his own_ at last. They had spent everyday, every weekend together, going to movies, out to dinner, going on long walks, laughing, and just being with each other. They had even revived their visits to John Dickson Park; and though it made Jim sad to see the decaying park continuing to get worse each day, Pam was there, and it didn't seem so bad anymore. Jim loved her. He loved how their courtship was so blissful, that sometimes he could forget. When he was with her, he could forget that his health was declining, he could forget that it would all come to an ending that, when it came, would be deemed too sudden. Jim had decided that Pam would no longer let herself be defined by Roy, but when the time would come for Jim to make his exit, would he make Pam continue to be defined by _him_? He knew what the right answer was, but at the same time was so afraid of being forgotten that at times he would hesitate to offer her the same courtesy. Jim knew it was selfish, but why live when you would be forgotten?

"Jim?" Pam threw him out of the deepness of his thoughts abruptly, and he found himself turning to her and saying the words he didn't want to hear, but that he knew were the ones that needed to be said.

"Don't let me determine what you can become either, okay?"

"What are you talking about?"

Jim opened his mouth to continue speaking when he was interrupted by Mrs. Smoterich – Barr, who had left Homeroom to find that he and Pam hadn't gone up to the counseling office. "What are you two doing here?" she demanded. "You're supposed to be up in the counseling office, discussing your post high school plans with your counselors!"

"Sorry," Jim said, "But we're not interested."

"Get to the counseling office, or I'll write the both of you up!" Mrs. Smoterich – Barr ordered. "Your counselors are probably wondering where the two of you are!" Jim rolled his eyes and nodded, and indicated for Pam to follow him up to the counseling office.

The two of them walked in silence, holding hands, when Pam inquired, "Why are we going there, Jim?"

"Because you can't afford to be written up and to get in trouble, like I can. It wouldn't exactly look good to the Ivy league universities, would it?"

"Stop it, Jim!" Pam said playfully. She smiled up at him and said, "Besides, what makes you think that _you_ can afford to be written up?"

"Because," Jim said proudly, "_I _am the one and only Jim Halpert. Unlike the rest of you peons, _I_ don't need to be walking the gloomy halls of this school, and by the way," he added, "Knowing exactly what time Trains A and B will intersect at a certain point won't exactly be of much use to me." Pam laughed and Jim continued to smile.

**II**

"_Really_, James," Mrs. Farmer sighed sternly as she held up her stapler encased in green Jell-O. "Is this necessary?"

"Of course, Mrs. Farmer," Jim replied. "It's been necessary since our first meeting. I figured you, and the other counselors, could use a few laughs while being stuck in this stuffy office all day."

"Well," Mrs. Farmer chuckled, as she surveyed the Jell-O mold, "I've been needing to get a new stapler, and now I have the excuse."

She was about to dump the plate into the trashcan when Jim admonished her, "I'd eat through it if I were you. There are starving people in Africa, you know." To his satisfaction, Mrs. Porter placed the Jell-O mold back on the table. He wasn't satisfied, however, to see that Mrs. Farmer had pulled up his school transcripts and his four-year plan and was now staring at him earnestly.

"Mr. Halpert, you know perfectly well that you're not sitting in this office to be discussing the fact that people are starving in Africa," his counselor said firmly. "Every year, I discuss with my seniors what their options are after high school, and whether or not their four – year plan has changed. I have seniors who keep the same ambitions they expressed their freshman year of high school, and others who have changed their minds several times over. Your pranks and laziness aside, James, your transcripts are _marvelous_, some of the best I've seen, in fact. You have _a lot_ of options about what you could do after high school." Jim nodded. "According to your four – year plan, you expressed an interest in sports journalism and in being a sports writer. Are you still thinking along those lines, James, or have you thought of other career paths?"

"I've thought about it, yeah."

"If you're still adamant on a journalism career, I could write you a recommendation to the universities with the _best_ journalism programs… Ball State University, Columbia, Syracuse, would all love to have someone like you in their program. Or, if you've lost an interest in journalism, you're math and science grades are quite superb as well. You could enter the medical profession, or become an engineer… really, James, several doors have opened themselves for you. What are your thinking right now?"

"I'm thinking that… I won't be attending university next fall."

"_What!_?"

"It just isn't in my best interests right now," Jim said, as he got up from his chair across from his counselors desk and was getting ready to leave.

"James! Are you sure about this?" his counselor asked firmly. "I don't want to see your future marred by you choosing not to – "

"I'm positive, Mrs. Farmer," Jim said, "But thank you for your consideration."

**III**

"Pamela Beesly," Mr. Jamison, Pam's school counselor greeted her as she took a seat. "Your transcripts are fantastic, but you seem to only be interested in staying behind in Scranton?"

"That's what I thought I wanted at first," Pam admitted, as she stared into Mr. Jamison's stapler encased in a Jell-O mold. She laughed quietly at the fact that he hadn't noticed it yet. She looked up at him and said, "But I don't really know anymore. I mean, staying here is still an option, at least for a year or so."

"Why is that?"

"Well, you know, it's cheaper, and I have… other things to take care of."

Mr. Jamison pursed his lips and said, "Frankly, Pam, you have spectacular transcripts, and Mr. Wallace and Ms. Turner, your art teachers, have always told me how gifted you are. You're very talented, Pam, and with all the advanced placement classes you're taking, you'll have a lot of college credit under your belt come next fall. Ms. Turner has even said that you could have a very promising career in the art field if you want it. But if you're not looking to pursue art, you have several other options as well. Really, Pam, you could do anything."

Pam thought about this for a moment. _You could do anything_. She probably wouldn't have believed those words if she was still with Roy. If she were still with Roy, she would be planning on staying in Scranton, getting a degree in some random field and a nine to five job while he did absolutely nothing with his life. But now, numerous possibilities were open to Pam, and she could do whatever she wanted. A part of her wanted to stay in Scranton though, because of Jim, and because she didn't know exactly what was going to happen between the two of them within the next year, but at the same time, leaving Scranton was an exciting possibility. She thought back to the e – mail that Roger had sent her about all the art schools. She felt guilty, but at the same time, couldn't help but want to look deeper into it.

"I think," Pam said, with a smile on her face, "I'm actually thinking about attending Yale Art School."

**IV**

"So what did your counselor say to you?" Pam asked Jim, as the two of them held hands while walking back to Homeroom.

"Well, it turns out that I _do_ have options," he said bitterly, "And that pranks aside, I actually am quite a good student. I ended up telling her that pursuing a career and an education outside of high school, isn't for me."

"I'm sorry," Pam consoled her boyfriend. She put her arm around his back. "You know, you are going to have to tell everybody… sooner or later."

Jim nodded. Changing the subject, he asked, "What did Mr. Jamison tell you?"

"Well," Pam smiled, "He didn't notice your little prank until he accidentally put his hand into the Jell-O while reaching for his stapler." Jim laughed while Pam said, "It turns out that… I can actually do a lot." She continued to stare ahead while she and Jim continued to walk in silence.

"What are you thinking?"

"Aside from the fact that you'll probably be seeing Mr. Brown in his office soon? I'm thinking about… staying here for a year."

"_Why_? Are you crazy?"

"No," Pam retorted, "It's just that I don't know what's going to happen with the two of us….a lot can happen in a year, you know."

"Pam," Jim said firmly, "Remember what I was telling you earlier before Mrs. Smoterich-Barr interrupted us? _Don't let me hold you back_. Just because I'm going to be leaving, it doesn't mean that you should stay behind in Scranton, it doesn't mean you shouldn't pursue your dreams… heck, just because I'm leaving it doesn't mean that you shouldn't _ever_ find love again!" He sighed and said, "I know you're thinking about that e – mail you told me about earlier. I think you should give it another look."

"Really?"

"I really do, Pam….just, let's not talk about the future until it becomes necessary. Agree?"

"Agreed," Pam said. She planted a kiss onto Jim's mouth, and the two of them continued to walk together in silence, arm in arm, taking in the moment, because it was all they could do. And even though Jim despised his fellow classmates for being caught up in the moment, he found that being in the moment had its upsides as opposed to looking ahead toward the future.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**I**

Biology had always been one of Jim's favorite subjects. It was the study of life itself, and how everything came together to form it. Jim always marveled at how even the littlest things, like cells, were so important to the big picture. It proved to Jim that the littlest things in life were just as significant. Most people would never take him for being a science whiz, but Jim had always had the ability to alarm people. He was the first to get to his A.P. Biology class and was getting out his binder when Mr. Page, his teacher, surprised him.

Mr. Page was rather intimidating, with his tall frame, muscular build, and beady little eyes. This was what Jim had first thought his freshman year of high school, the first time he had chosen to try out for the high school basketball team. Yet, like most people, Mr. Page took a liking to Jim, and he could bring out his teacher's soft side. During the years, whenever Mr. Page saw Jim, he would greet him with a hearty hello, but today, while staring at Jim, he was rather intimidating once again, and looking quite furious.

"I didn't see you at basketball try – outs yesterday," Mr. Page hollered gruffly, even though he and Jim were the only two people in the room. "Halpert, you were my strongest player last year! I thought for sure that you'd be wanting to play basketball… heck, I'd probably would've give you the position of team captain!"

"Would you?" Jim inquired. "With all those injuries I suffered last year? When you were the one who was telling me to buck up and ignore them whenever I kept falling down on the court?"

"Well, yeah, I probably would, Halpert," Mr. Page answered seriously. "I figured that you'd probably see a doctor about that over the summer… have you?"

"Yeah, I have."

"What has your doctor said about your injuries?"

Jim wondered if now was the time for him to tell people about his predicament. It was still the beginning of the year, and Doctor Mifflin had told him that he needed to lead a "normal" life for as long as possible, until it wasn't possible anymore to hide his disease. Part of Jim felt that it was too soon, but at the same time, he felt like Doctor Mifflin had been telling him to live a blatant lie, and he was sick of it. "_Well_," Jim thought, "_People are going to find out anyway, so I may as well say it now_." He took a deep breath and was about to tell Mr. Page when the rest of the class, consisting of Toby, Phyllis, Angela, Bob Vance and a few other juniors walked into the classroom. Class had now started, and Jim would have to put off telling Mr. Page why he wasn't going to be playing basketball this year. In some ways, Jim was relieved; he remembered how it felt having to tell Pam, and that itself was very daunting; he was sure that letting more people know would be even more so.

"Alright, class," Mr. Page said strictly. "Before I tell you about the grades on your last exam, which, by the way, I was _not_ happy about… _Bob and Phyllis_! I will _not_ tell you again to stop talking!" Bob and Phyllis looked up in shame and sat straight up in their seats once again. Angela shot Phyllis and glare and raised her hand.

"Mr. Page, perhaps you should separate Bob and Phyllis since the two of them are proving to be a distraction," she suggested piously. Jim couldn't help but roll his eyes at Angela's suggestion and at how rude and even childish it was.

"Ms. Martin, you leave the class discipline to me unless you want me to use the connections I have with Mr. Merchant and separate you from your little moon – faced boyfriend in Economics." Now, it was Phyllis' turn to snicker meanly while Angela's face blushed a deep red. "Now we can move onto our next unit, which will be on neurodegenerative diseases… if you would all open your books to page one – hundred and thirty…"

Jim opened his thick, A.P. biology book to the page and lay back in his seat, closing his eyes. After one of the younger students read the introductory paragraph about these diseases, Mr. Page thanked the reader and said, "Neurodegenerative diseases are, for the most part, inevitably fatal. We will be studying these diseases and how they can affect a person's brain and bodily functions. As a class, we will be studying one disease in particular. Toby, if you could read the third paragraph please…"

Toby nodded and read, "Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, better known as Lou Gehrig's Disease, is a fatal neurodegenerative disease. Abbreviated as ALS, this disease causes the degeneration of motor neurons, which control the cells in the nervous system and voluntary muscle movement. This disease weakens both the upper and lower body, and the victim will eventually lose all control of his or her muscles. They will lose the ability to do everyday things, such as walking. This disease is usually a progressive disease, and a victim is given three to five years to live. However, there are also cases where a victim has been given much less time to live, such as a year, or less. On the other hand, there have been people, such as Stephen Hawking, a British theoretical physicist, who have lived with the disease for a great number of years. In most ALS cases, cognitive functions are spared, and victims are usually well aware of what is happening to them. A few exceptions are if a victim develops frontotemporal dementia."

"Thank you, Toby," Mr. Page nodded. "ALS is a very terrible disease for a person to be afflicted with. To lose the ability to do simple things such as walking, and to be very aware of what is happening to you, is rather unfortunate and quite tragic. Most people who are diagnosed with ALS are members of the elderly community. Some people are affected in their mid forties to early fifties, and it is rare for people in their twenties or thirties to be diagnosed with the disease, but it does happen. An even rarer occurrence is for a teenager to be diagnosed with the illness. It does happen, however, and when it does, it is… just horrible."

Jim nodded in agreement along with Mr. Page. It was even sadder for him to be hearing about Lou Gehrig's Disease in an academic setting and to be reading and hearing about how terrible it was, because he was afflicted with it. While Toby was reading the paragraph about it, Jim felt as though each word was stabbing at him painfully, knowing, that he had to take in what was happening to him, little by little, and yet at such a rapid pace. He turned back to Mr. Page, who was continuing his lecture.

"Though fatal, ALS does have a treatment. It is called Riluzole. However, this drug only does _so much_. It only increases a patient's life span by two months, and will only delay the time in which a patient will have to depend on a medical ventilator or a tracheotomy procedure in order to breathe. Riluzole _does not_ reverse previous damage done to a person afflicted with ALS, and improvement in a person's condition does not improve. Also, no reports have come out saying that Riluzole increases a person's quality of life."

Jim sighed raggedly. When he had first been diagnosed, this option had been presented to him. His mother had wanted him to consider it, but Jim had adamantly said no. He felt that it wasn't his place to interfere with the natural course of life that had been presented to him, and what was the point of taking Riluzole, if it wasn't going to do a whole lot, if it wasn't going to improve his quality of life? Still, his mother had wanted him accept treatment, and Jim continued to ignore her, even though it upset him to see her so sad by it. He was, after all, her son, and what parent wants to admit that they're soon going to be a bereaved one?

"Riluzole presents a very ethical issue here," Mr. Page stated. "There are people who are diagnosed with ALS who become dependent on this drug to add years to their life, even though it does very little to improve it, while other people reject treatment and choose to take their life as it comes. If any of you were diagnosed with ALS, what would _you_ do?"

Angela raised her hand and said defiantly, "I would take Riluzole. _I_ want to be the one who determines _when_, and if I die."

Mr. Page nodded. "So you would like to be in control of your life?" He turned to Toby, and asked, "What would you do, Toby?"

"I wouldn't take the treatment because I wouldn't want to be dependent on a substance to keep me alive. And also, wouldn't it become addicting?"

"Interesting take, Toby," Mr. Page said. "It has not been said whether or not Riluzole can develop addictions in a person, but you do make a valid point. What do you think, Halpert?"

Jim breathed slowly and said, "I… I agree with Toby, Mr. Page. I mean, why accept treatment for a disease that you're going to die from, anyway? Why accept treatment when it does _absolutely nothing_ to improve your life but increase it by what, two months? Riluzole may slow the progression of Lou Gehrig's Disease, but it'll catch up in the end, anyway!"

"You're stupid!" Angela shouted at him. "Don't you want control? Don't you want to be the one who determines your life?"

"Maybe… maybe that isn't for us to determine, Angela," Jim replied darkly. "I mean, you're a '_Christian_'. I thought that you'd take the view that our lives are in God's hands."

The class became silent after that. Angela looked down at her book in shame. Jim became disgusted at Angela and at the fact that her 'Christianity' was an entire act.

"_Whoa_, there, Halpert," Mr. Page said. "You've really presented quite a moral debate here… do we control our lives, or are our lives up to God? Is there such thing as fate or destiny? Or is it up to us to make the events in our lives come to pass? Well, I can't exactly debate that with you class, since I teach a biology course, not a philosophy one, but Halpert, you seem to feel _very_ strongly about this. If you don't mind me asking, do you know of anyone who has been afflicted with this particular disease?"

In some ways, it was like destiny itself had presented Jim with this opportunity to confess everything. Maybe his life _was_ in God's hands… then again, he could also decide whether or not to tell his entire class of his predicament. He didn't know. However, he did know that his whole reason for rejecting Riluzole in the first place was because he felt that he didn't have the right to interfere with the natural course of nature, so it'd be hypocritical of him if he didn't say anything. He didn't want to do this, but it was necessary, and he was _so_ sick of pretending that everything was okay when it wasn't.

"Yes, Mr. Page, I do know someone with Lou Gehrig's Disease."

"Who?"

Jim took a deep, slow, breath and stood up from his seat. He walked to the front of the room, ignoring Mr. Page's questions of what he was doing. He looked at his teacher square in his squinty little eyes and then at his classmates and said, "_Me_."


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**I**

"I had _no_ idea, James," Mr. Brown said as he lay some of his paperwork off to the side and stared at him earnestly. "You've hidden this whole predicament of yours rather well…_too_ well, in fact." He clasped his hands on his desk and asked, "When were you diagnosed?"

"In May," Jim answered. "And it's not hard to hide, Mr. Brown. The 'symptoms' really don't become obvious until much later."

Mr. Brown, taken aback by Jim's statement, gathered himself and said, "I called your parents, and the four of us are going to –" Mr. Brown was cut off as Larissa Halpert, looking noticeably thinner and rather flustered, with her blonde hair completely askew, and newly formed wrinkles lining her mouth and the rest of her face, entered the office, and sat in the chair next to her son, looking furious.

"_You know, don't you?"_ she said to Mr. Brown curtly. The principal shrugged and nodded, not knowing what else to say.

She rummaged in her purse frustratingly and grabbed her cell phone, pushing the number keys rather harshly while lecturing her son. "Just _what_ were you thinking, James Duncan Halpert, choosing to tell _everyone_ about this, _especially_ when Doctor Mifflin told you to maintain a sense of normalcy for as long as possible – and where on _Earth_ is that father of yours?" She finally finished dialing the number and called it. "Where are you, Daniel? " she hissed into the phone. "This can't take long, you _know_ I have a business to run!"

Jim stared at his mother, completely baffled. This was her way of coping with his illness – by making _Cugino's_ her top priority and lashing out at everyone she knew and loved, even her own family? When Jim first got sick, she was devastated and cried for days, and now she was this harsh businesswoman. He understood that people coped with his illness differently; his father coped with it through helping Jim with his pranks, Jared started doing community service at the George Washington University Medical Center, and Pam worked on her art constantly when she wasn't spending time with him.

"Daniel, would you _please_ hurry up? I have to cater a _huge_ event tonight!" Jim turned his eyes and mouthed "Sorry" to Mr. Brown, who appeared rather alarmed at his mother's outbursts. "So help me _God,_ Daniel, if you don't get here soon, I'll –"

"I'm right _here,_ Larissa." Jim breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing his father's voice. He turned around; Daniel Halpert was just getting off his cell phone and looked exactly the same, save for the beard that now covered his face. He took a seat on the other side of Jim and put his arm around his son's shoulders. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said, "There are two cases I'm working on at the moment." He turned and glared at his wife before returning to face Mr. Brown. "I understand that my son chose to tell you about his illness?"

"Yes, and he's kept it a secret rather well up until this point – "

"Mr. Brown, this whole _thing_ was supposed to _stay_ a secret! The doctor told James when he was diagnosed to live life as normally as possible, and now – "

"Larissa –"

"And now you'll have to tell all these people so _soon_, James…"

"Larissa –"

"And Son, do you _really_ want people to know? Couldn't you just –"

"_Larissa!_ STOP."

Mr. Brown's office became silent at Mr. Halpert's outburst. "Larissa, there's nothing you can do about it now. Jim chose to reveal his predicament – that was _his_ decision, and I'm glad he made it." He pulled his son close to him before continuing. "In fact, I was _completely_ against him keeping this a secret… it was never meant to be one."

"But the doctor said – "

"Well maybe Doctor Mifflin was wrong, Larissa, did that ever occur to you? Besides, he offered Jim Riluzole, and Jim chose not to take it. Doctor Mifflin let Jim make that decision… I think he's old enough to do that, and that goes for telling people about this whole thing… people were going to find out anyway, Larissa. When we found out that Jim was sick, we had to tell Jared, and call all the relatives…"

Larissa snorted. "Well, you didn't handle it too well at first, you were just as much of a wreck as I am right now, so don't act all high and mighty about this, Daniel!"

Jim looked up at his parents, noticing how different they were, both physically, and in handling this situation. While his mother coped with his illness by becoming more of a "businesswoman", she looked like a haggard one nonetheless, like one who spent all her time at her job and never got any sleep, with her thinning limbs and hair, wearing a beige colorless suit that had wrinkles to match her face, and a cold, demeaning look in her green eyes – _Jim's_ eyes… he knew, though, that hidden beneath the coldness, there was sadness, and mourning for a death that hadn't even occurred yet. His father, on the other hand, was dressed impeccably in a crisp suit, and his dark brown hair and beard were trimmed somewhat neatly, but still looked nice, despite the fact that a few gray and white hairs peeked through. Jim felt that his father was handling things better than his mother was, and he carried on like he was, but Jim only had to look into his father's dark brown eyes, which were the exact color and shape of Jared's, once, and know the truth.

Jim's father shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Brown… could you tell us what Jim's options are?"

Mr. Brown exhaled slowly and inquired, "What would _you_ like to do, James?"

"I'd like to attend school here for as long as possible," Jim replied slowly. "And I know you're probably all worried about my classmates' reaction… but I have friends here who won't see me any differently, and – well, it was only a matter of time," he shrugged.

"How long do you have?"

"When I first found out I was sick, I was given eighteen months, but when I went back for an appointment the following month, the doctor had some tests performed, and I was given a year."

Mr. Brown's complexion paled at this revelation. He said, "Well, now I guess I should let your counselor know why you're not planning on pursuing higher education…" He sighed. "So I'm assuming that you want to stay here until you're not able to… and from there, we can arrange to have a tutor visit you?"

Jim nodded. "I'd like that very much."

Mr. Brown nodded sadly. "You're welcome to take the rest of the day off… and James?"

"Yes?"

"I was wrong about you… you really _have_ grown up. You're mature beyond your years, and I'm sorry I underestimated you."

**II**

Jim walked slowly out of Mr. Brown's office with his parents closely at his side. His mom opened her out and was about to say something when Jim said firmly, "Mom, it's _done_." Mrs. Halpert shut her mouth and continued walking, keeping her lips pursed the entire time.

"At this rate, we're going to have to move you to the downstairs bedroom," Mr. Halpert said as he caught his son, who'd been stumbling a bit. Jim nodded and beckoned for his parents to follow him to the quad, where his locker was located. He stayed a few steps ahead of his parents as he entered; it was break, so the quad was crowded with all the students mingling as usual, but there was something _different_ about it as well.

Everyone was whispering quietly, and when people noticed him, they stared at him almost _sympathetically._ Karen gave him a sad smile, and when Kelly rushed up to him and gave him a hug, exclaiming, "We're all gonna miss you!" Jim knew that something was out of the ordinary.

He stared bewilderedly at Kelly and said, "I'm not going anywhere," but when he saw everyone staring at him morosely, and Phyllis, in the very back of the quad giving him that same, sad smile Karen gave him, he knew, and wanted to slap her.

Luckily, his locker was close to where she was standing, and he was heading there to get his things and then confront her when someone else hugged him – not like Kelly, whose hug was so forceful it nearly knocked Jim to the ground, but instead it was gentle and loving. It was Pam.

"What's up?" she questioned. "Everyone's telling me you have Lou Gehrig's Disease – I mean, I already _knew_ about it and I was encouraging you to tell people, but I thought you would've told me before you decided to tell everybody!"

"It… just kind of slipped out, Pam," Jim said quietly as he kissed her before turning to his locker and opening it. "We were studying neurodegenerative diseases, and – "

"One of them just _happened_ to be Lou Gehrig's Disease."

"Right," Jim said, while getting his books out of his locker. "And then Mr. Page asked if we'd take Riluzole if any of us had the disease, and Angela was just… _ugh,_ and it all came out… and I'm guessing Phyllis told everybody."

"No surprise there," Pam said tersely, rolling her eyes. She turned and glared at Phyllis before turning back to face Jim. "Your parents are here… are you taking the rest of the day off?"

"Yeah, I am," Jim replied, shutting his locker. "Call me?"

"Of course," Pam said, as she kissed him on the cheek, and then again on the lips, before heading off to her next class.

When she left, Jim walked up to Phyllis and said darkly, "You know, what you did, telling everyone about me, that was _really_ uncool." He turned around, not even bothering to see the reaction on her face before heading over to where his parents were waiting for him. The three of them exited the school, knowing that Jim's final days at Scranton High School would _be anything_ but normal.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**I**

Pam never liked Thanksgiving. All the food was too much for her, and the smell of everything cooking at once – the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, yams, the crescent rolls, and the pumpkin pie, made her stomach churn dangerously. Also, ever since she learned in the fifth grade that the pilgrims gave the Indians smallpox and killed them all, and that the first Thanksgiving was far from what everyone made it out to be, Pam lost all appreciation for the holiday. Luckily, she and her parents were spending the holiday at the Halpert residence this year, and when she with Jim at school last Wednesday, he too seemed apathetic about the celebration. Pam and her parents wouldn't be heading over to the Halpert residence until around three in the afternoon, and it was only ten o'clock. Before her parents left to drop some treats off at the local nursing home, her mother told Pam to start on the stuffing, the very last thing Pam wanted to concern herself with – stuffing had never been her favorite Thanksgiving cuisine. Plus, she yearned to see Jim, who hadn't been at school the last two days before the break, and the Saturday after, her parents dragged her off to Virginia, to see her mom's older sister. Pam didn't get back until the very early hours of the morning.

Whether the stuffing was cooked or not, Pam knew that she had to see Jim before three in the afternoon. She figured that the stuffing could wait, and walked outside to the front yard, cell phone in hand, and dialed Jim's number. It rang five times before he _finally_ answered.

"Hello?" He sounded tired and somewhat agitated.

"Hey Jim! I was wondering if maybe we could hang out before our families got together?"

"Yeah, sure! What do you want to do?"

Pam looked around and noticed all the trees with their multicolored leaves – bright red, light brown, yellow, and some mixtures, along with the dark green still trying to retain its hue, but failing with the vivid red peeking through it. To her satisfaction, she noticed that several of the leaves were all over the sidewalk, and as the wind picked them up and brushed softly against her skin, she said, "Maybe we could go on a Fall Walk and collect leaves?"

"A _walk_?" Jim sounded bewildered.

"Yeah, you know, get some fresh air…" Pam's voice trailed off. She and Jim loved going on walks. He didn't oppose the idea, but he seemed confused about why Pam suggested one. She didn't know why, but kept talking. "We could gather some leaves and press them into a book or something."

"Or you could get some and use them for your next art project," Jim added. "Yeah, we can go for a walk – meet me at my house…. Right now?"

"I'll be right over," Pam grinned, and hung up. She walked briskly across the street, letting herself into the Halpert residence, like she always had since she was a little girl. Jim's house was a second home to her. She sat in one of the large, spacious recliners and waited, looking around the Halpert's family room. It was perfectly clean, down to the very edges of the carpet. On the entertainment center, pictures from when Jim and Jared were little took up every single corner. She waited longer; it seemed like Jim was the only one who was home… or was he? The place was completely silent, and it seemed as though Pam was the only person inside. "Halpert?" she called out. "Where are you?"

"Coming!" Jim hollered. Pam expected to hear his footsteps walk into the family room loudly, but heard nothing – which was odd, since he was right in front of her. Thankfully, it seemed like he hadn't lost any more weight, although his face still looked rather thin, and his green eyes looked bigger than ever. His light brown hair was still messy, yet gracefully so. He wore the Princeton sweatshirt Pam bought for him over the summer. "Ready to go? We have to take the back door out now, since there aren't any steps there."

"Steps?" Pam asked, dazed. "Why would steps be an –" she stopped. All this time, she'd only been looking at his face, not seeing anything else. When she looked down, she realized that taking the front door outside was no longer an option.

Jim chuckled, indicating to his new wheelchair, and said, "Meet Harvey. He'll be helping me get around for now on. Ready to go?"

Pam laughed. "Michael's going to be mad that you stole his computer's name."

"He got into your A.P. Graphic Design class how?" Jim said, smiling.

"I suppose it's just one of life's mysteries," Pam mused, as she began pushing Jim toward the back door. She opened it, wheeled Jim out, and closed it again. "Where would you like me to take you?"

"The park," Jim said decidedly, as the wind ruffled his hair playfully. "Don't go too slow, okay?"

Pam nodded, and she ran while pushing Jim's chair until she was out of breath. "Can we collect some leaves now?" she asked, stopping the wheelchair when she saw an array of red leaves she liked. Jim nodded, and Pam knelt down and picked up the leaves and placed them in Jim's lap. Pam continued pushing Jim's wheelchair until at last, they arrived at the decrypt park, which looked worse than ever. Pam rolled Jim over to the grassy knoll and parked it, then she let herself fall onto the tall, soft grass. Ironically, her bed of grass felt heavenly. She noticed Jim staring into the distance sadly.

"What's wrong?" she inquired, propping herself up onto her elbows.

"The park," Jim sighed sadly. "It looks horrible. Someone should fix it, put in a new swing set or something."

"Isn't that kind of expensive?" Pam wondered aloud. "Wouldn't the city have to approve it and such?"

Jim shrugged. "I just know that a lot of little kids would be happy to actually have something they could play on… you know, something close by where they can go and have fun…. I _loved_ this place when I was a kid."

Pam sighed. "I see what you mean, but I'm just grateful that some relic of our childhood is still around. Scranton always changes, it seems like. They got rid of Poor Richard's and put in an Applebee's instead. Right after I resigned from South of Samuel's, they put a Taco Bell in its place. It's like our childhood's disappearing, Jim…. It seems like everything's becoming less small town and more commercialized, just like any other suburb."

"No kidding," Jim said, laughing bitterly, turning only slightly to stare at Pam. "You know, back when you and Roy were dating, and I had no where else to go since my best friend wasn't with me, I'd go here… but eventually, I stopped, since it wasn't the same without you."

"Oh Jim," Pam sighed. "Roy was such a huge mistake."

"But we're past that, Pam."

"Just… if anything, I'm grateful for _you_." Pam got up onto her knees, leaned into Jim, grabbed his shoulders, and kissed him. When she finished, she asked, "What are you grateful for, Jim?"

"You, of course," Jim replied. "My family, especially my dad and my brother… things with my mom have been really rocky lately. On Wednesday night, I laid down to take a nap, and two hours later when I couldn't move my legs, she about hit the floor… but even before that…" he sighed. "Honestly, Pam, I don't know what to be grateful for. I've lost my independence, my health… I'm going to lose everything and everyone who I love. What gives?"

Pam took Jim's hand and squeezed it, not really knowing what to say. She could only be there for him when he needed it.

**II**

With the exception of Christmas, Jim found all holidays to be overrated, the meaning of the holiday ruined through commercialism. He never liked Thanksgiving, finding it to be a sordid excuse to eat your weight in food and watch football. Not that he didn't like football or food, but he found the holiday to be _too much of_ a good thing. Fortunately, the Beesly's were spending the holiday with his family, and his sojourn with Pam to John Dickson Park made Thanksgiving much more bearable already. Additionally, he hadn't been asked to prepare any food like he had in recent years – his mom, who was in charge of the turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy and the pumpkin pie, banned him from the kitchen completely. In some ways, he was offended – did his own mother think that he was now completely invalid because he couldn't walk anymore? He could do other things too, but he'd even been barred from setting the table. Normally, he'd welcome the ban, but now, he was angered at the concept.

He sat by the couch, idly flipping through the channels, trying to find something on television that _wasn't_ football related, when at last, the Beesly's made their entrance. "Thank God you're here," Jim said as Pam came to him, handing the stuffing to her mother, and then kissing him on the forehead. "I'm dying of boredom here."

"As opposed to Lou Gehrig's Disease?"

"Pretty much," Jim laughed. "Want to wheel me over to the table?" Pam nodded and began wheeled Jim over to the table, where a plate, glass, and silverware were set without a chair in place. Jim had to laugh at the concept of him not needing a chair any longer since he was practically glued to one now. Pam sat next to him and squeezed his hand. He smiled but stopped when he saw his mother glare reproachfully at him – Jim figured that she heard his comment when the Beesly Family first walked in. He sighed; she would never get over him dying. Perhaps, he mused, she was grateful that he was still alive to enjoy the holiday, but was incapable of showing it.

Without any notice, food was being passed all around the table. Jim piled some turkey and stuffing onto his plate and took a tentative bite. Surprisingly, it was all delicious. He looked around, observing everyone – his father and Mr. Beesly talking about their jobs, Mrs. Beesly asking Jared about his volunteer hours at the George Washington University Medical Center, and his mom staring at her plate, quietly picking at her food. She looked up for a brief moment, and Jim smiled at her. To his surprise, she returned the smile, but quickly went back to staring at her plate.

It was sad for Jim. This would be his very last Thanksgiving, and he was sad that he'd never taken the time to truly appreciate the holiday, despite it being corrupted by commercialism. He realized that he'd never taken the time to actually contemplate what he was grateful for. His family and Pam were still on the list, and he had to admit that despite her flaws and her unhealthy way of handling Jim's current situation, that he appreciated his mother on some levels. He even had to admit that the food was delicious, and so, he was grateful for that. Even more, however, he was grateful for time, because it was precious and could never be changed into something different – no moment was the same, each was distinct, and each moment in Jim's life shaped his life in a certain way and made him who he was. He turned to Pam, grinned, and the two of them shared a kiss. While Thanksgiving was still overrated, and despite the fact that he could only think of a few things to be grateful for, Jim had to admit that this Thanksgiving, _his last_ Thanksgiving, was the best he'd ever had.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**I**

Jim recalled with bitterness his many attempts at forgetting about Pam while she dated Roy. While doing so, he found himself in the very place he vowed to never step foot in again: the Steamtown Mall, now decorated in all its holiday glory and flashy Christmas lights. During those tumultuous three years, Jim dated other girls in his futile attempts to ignore his feelings for Pam. He dated an entire slew of girls who insisted on dragging him to the godforsaken mall _every single weekend._ It was fine the first couple of times, then it became excessive, and then he finally had to draw the line when Karen dragged him into _Victoria's Secret_ one weekend, wanting him to pick out lingerie for her. To Jim, fate had a very sick sense of humor – as if dying wasn't horrible enough, he was now stuck inside the very place he wanted nothing to do with. Yet, he was desperate to find the perfect Christmas gift for Pam, and he wanted to get her something more sentimental this year. Because arts and crafts had never been his specialty, he finally swallowed his pride and asked Jared to take him to the mall. It was December 22, and Jim was easily frustrated. After trying to come with a Christmas present for Pam for nearly a month, he was now stuck here. Additionally, the mall was crowded, filled mostly with young parents taking their children to see Santa Clause for the first time at the last minute.

Jim watched passively from his wheelchair, his eyes glazed over, as a chubby three-year-old boy with white blonde hair climbed onto Santa's lap and gave him a list of all the things he wanted for Christmas while his parents snapped pictures crazily. _"Ten years from now,"_ Jim thought to himself, _"That little boy will no longer believe in Santa Clause."_

"_Jim?"_Jim shook his head upon hearing his older brother call for him sharply. "Can't you just get her a sketchbook?" he asked as wheeled Jim past all the stores that were decorated for the holidays and advertising all their winter sales, along with the help from Frosty, Santa, and Rudolph. Jim, attempting to ignore all the stores flashing so – called "holiday cheer", shook his head.

"I _can't_," Jim said curtly. "She already has a million of them, and plus, that's what I got for her last year… I don't want to be a repeat offender, Jared."

Jared paused as a frown formed across his handsome face and his eyes dark eyes became doubtful. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Emptying our you bank account didn't help in this case, then."

"_Oh please,"_ Jim rolled his eyes. "Not again with the lecture on how Mom and Dad are going to be mad when they learned that I emptied out my entire account and cancelled it altogether. Before you'd know it, my account would've become completely useless."

"That's not what I meant," Jared said coolly, parking Jim's wheelchair right next to the bench across from _GameStop,_ and then sitting on it. Jim felt his brother fix his eyes on him and cowered slightly under his stare. He didn't like admitting it, but Jared had been driving him crazy since he returned home. Although Jared had been one of his greatest support and advocate during this trial, Jim found the "advice" his brother gave him on a daily basis completely useless and condescending. Jim glared at his brother, who only ignored his chiding stare, and began talking. "You emptied out your entire bank account, hoping that you'd get Pam something worthwhile, and that's not like you, Jim. Nowadays, you think that only worthwhile things cost thousands of dollars, maybe even more…. I may not be the best person to tell you this, but if there's _anything_ I've learned, it's that money won't get you the most valuable things in life…. It doesn't buy you happiness or love, Jim. That comes from yourself."

Jim rolled his eyes at the cliché, but he knew it was the truth. Now, Jim wanted to slap himself for being here, when he knew all along that Pam would appreciate anything he'd get for her, even though he wasn't the best artist or craftsperson. He laughed bitterly and said, "So basically, I've just wasted three hours of my life here."

His brother shrugged, then nodded, before asking, "Want to head home?"

Jim nodded, once again thinking of the perfect gift to get for Pam as he and Jared left the Steamtown Mall.

**II**

Pam just walked out of the Verizon store, and couldn't believe that she'd been so stupid. Stupid to think that Jim would want something from the Verizon store in the first place, when his cell phone worked capably, and that she'd just overheard him and Jared conversing about what to get her for Christmas. She should've known something was up when she'd called Jim earlier asking him if they wanted to go to the park together, and he said he had things to do. Like him, Pam was having a hard time finding the perfect Christmas present for Jim. This was going to be his last Christmas, and she wanted it to mean something; as much as she hated the commercialization of the holiday season, she felt that she could put her resentment aside for the time being and find the perfect gift for Jim. Earlier, she thought about giving Jim her drawing of him – the one she submitted to the art contest, and the second one of him in the field of yellow roses that she'd drawn at the convention. She came close to it, too – buying nice frames for the pictures to go in, of putting a note on the very back... she was about to get into her car and scour all the stores in Scranton, and beyond, when she chose not to. Pam was selfish in this sense – she didn't want to part with the drawings just yet, especially since she knew that once Jim was gone, that they would be some of the only things to remain of him.

She exited the mall and drove home, her entire mind in a tailspin. _"What am I gonna __**do**__?"_ she thought desperately. _"I can't just get Jim any old thing…"_ It was a miracle that she'd gotten home all in one piece, for her mind had been completely scattered, thinking of the perfect present to get for Jim. Her eyes hadn't been on the road at all. When she returned home, her father, home from reporting on conditions in South Africa, was sitting on the couch casually glancing through the newspaper. Pam saw through his act instantly, fell down on the couch next to him and wailed, "Dad, I need help!"

Her father began cleaning his glasses as he listened to her predicament. When she finished, her father said, "Clearly, Jim doesn't deserve just the next big thing… and he hates the Steamtown Mall more than anything."

"I know, Dad," Pam sighed. "I wasn't thinking when I went there, really…. That's where most people shop for their Christmas gifts, and I thought I'd find something there. Something he'd like…. But you were right Dad. Trying to shop for Jim at the Steamtown Mall was a mistake." She shrugged and said resignedly, "_I_ should've known that!"

Her dad chuckled as he put his glasses back on and put an arm around his daughter's shoulders. "What does Jim like to do?" he asked.

It hit Pam instantly – she couldn't believe that she hadn't thought of it before. "Thanks, Dad!" she exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek before running off to her room. She instantly got to work – taking out the construction paper, the scissors, glue, the colored string. She got down the large box from the very top of her closet and rifled through her several journals, of good material to use in Jim's present. She worked all night, and well into the early hours of the morning on his present. Thankfully, she and Jim were on Winter Break, and so she breathed a sigh of relief when at 7:15 in the morning, she held up Jim's finished present triumphantly before finally falling asleep at her desk.

**III**

At 4:35 in the afternoon, Jim was jolted awake by his cell phone, which vibrated loudly on his end table. He reached for his phone and picked up clumsily while still lying down. "Hello?" he mumbled, still shaking the sleep from within him.

Pam giggled and said, "Jim, I was wondering if you wanted to exchange Christmas gifts later?"

"Uh, Christmas gifts?" Jim muttered sleepily, "Yeah, sure, we can do that." He yawned loudly, longing to sink into the pillows and under the covers and fall back to sleep.

His girlfriend laughed again and said, "What time works for you?"

Jim groaned; after staying up all night working on Pam's present, and not finishing it until around 9, he was still tired. Jim had always been one of those people who needed a lot of sleep. Plus, he'd always been the kind of person to sleep in late, no matter how early he went to bed. "Uh… ten?"

"Isn't that a little late, Halpert?" Pam said, amused.

"No," Jim replied tiredly. "What time were you thinking of?"

"Seven?"

Jim looked at his clock – it was now 4:50. "I think that's a little early, actually."

After a fit of laughter and several minutes of playful bantering, Jim finally came to a negotiation with Pam: 8:30. After he hung up the phone, he smiled to himself and fell back asleep.

**IV**

At 8:25, Pam crossed the street over to the Halpert residence, with Jim's present in hand, along with anticipation and nervousness mounting inside of her. She dressed nicely for the occasion, wearing a periwinkle blue, knee – length dress that showcased all her best assets beautifully, along with a pair of silver heels. Her hair was long and curled loosely, and she wore just the slightest bit of make – up. When she reached the front door, she simply let herself in, like always. She felt herself light up and a smile turn up at the corner of her mouth when she spotted Jim, in his wheelchair, sitting next to his family's Christmas tree.

Jim looked handsome – he wore a nice, white dress shirt, which had been ironed, a pair of khaki pants. His green tie brought out his eyes in the most unusual way, for they seemed brighter, or perhaps, Pam mused, it was the light from within. His cheeks were rosy, and brought much needed color to his face. He smiled warmly, holding Pam's present on his lap. "Hey you," he said.

"Hey," Pam smiled back shyly. She walked over to Jim, placed his present on the ground next to his wheelchair and kissed him. "Are we alone?" It was odd, but she felt the need to whisper those words, even though the Halpert residence had been like a home to her for a great number of years.

"No," Jim said. "My family's watching from above."

Horrified, Pam turned away from her boyfriend and looked up, frantically searching the staircase for Jim's parents and his older brother.

"I'm just messing with you, Beesly," Jim chuckled as Pam's eyes frantically search the staircase, and then turn around to glare at him slightly. When she did, Jim took a lock of her hair and twisted it gently. _"God, you're beautiful,"_ he breathed. "I'm the luckiest."

This revelation nearly brought Pam to tears, but instead she said, "Why don't we exchange gifts?" She picked her gift up from off the ground and without thinking, placed it on Jim's lap, over his gift to her. Jim smiled, picking up her present from him, and gave it to Pam. She held his gift, wrapped nicely in bright red wrapping paper, topped with a silver ribbon, with trembling hands. After overhearing Jim's conversation with his brother at the mall, Pam knew that Jim's gift could only be extraordinary. "You first?" she asked.

Jim shrugged, and then nodded, before opening his present. When he did, his face broke out into a large smile. "This is brilliant, Beesly," he said, holding up his gift. It was a book, complied of all the pranks Jim had played on Dwight, back from when they had all started Kindergarten, up to the present day. The book contained pictures of Jim and Pam with the entire crew throughout the school years, and each prank was highlighted with the utmost care. For each of the years, a picture was glued in place, along with an in depth description of the prank, along with either another picture or a pop – up of something that related to the prank being spotlighted. To the average person, looking through a book filled with pictures of crayons being mismatched, staplers inside of JELL-O molds, beet juice being switched with a container of pickles, and of a bespectacled kid "fighting" life sized Star Wars figurines, but to Jim, it was golden. "It's wonderful, Pam," he grinned enthusiastically. "I'm not sure how my present will stand next to your wondrous creation, but here you are." He gestured to the present Pam was holding.

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful," Pam said as she untied the ribbon and opened the present slowly. With trembling fingers, she picked up the present and gasped. It was a picture, done with colored pencils, marker, and chalk, of the two of them at the park, on their grassy knoll. Jim was in his wheelchair and Pam was kneeling next to him. Their backs were to her, and they were watching a spectacular sunset. In the distance, Pam noted that Jim had drawn the playground; however, the playground didn't look decrypt and aged, but instead it looked vibrant and brand new, with a yellow aura over it, practically making the park shine. The picture was placed in a nice, glossy black frame.

"Turn it over," Jim said. When Pam did, she read the following:

_To Pam: Never give up the hope for a better tomorrow._

_All My Love,_

_~Jim._

With tears in her eyes, Pam said, "Oh Jim, it's beautiful… I had no idea you could draw… and all the mediums you used! Many artists struggle with using different mediums in an art piece, but you pulled it off… it's _perfect_."

Jim shrugged. "I don't know how to draw, Beesly, I got lucky. Remember in the sixth grade when I almost failed art class because I could only conjure up stick figures? I don't know what it was… I spent half the time sketching and then re-sketching."

Pam put the picture down delicately and stroked Jim's hair. "I'm so grateful that you got lucky," she said. "Your drawing is the most beautiful piece of art I've ever seen… and you think you're lucky to have me – I think I'm the luckiest of the both of us, because I have _you_." She leaned it, touching Jim's face gently, and kissed him, not wanting the moment to end.


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**I**

When the second semester at Scranton High School began, each of the seniors showed their symptoms of severe senioritis in a variety of ways. Michael and Dwight, for instance, were absent from school for days at a time, while Bob and Phyllis disappeared from their classes every single period. They wouldn't return until the very end of class, and when they did, gigantic smirks were visible upon their faces, making their classmates wonder what they were up to. Kevin took longer lunch breaks and spent the rest of the school day stuffing his face with obscene amounts of junk food, and Stanley stopped doing his homework completely; instead of bringing his school supplies to class, he'd bring his crossword puzzle books. Even Angela, being the pious student that she was, caught senioritis and spent class periods assembling together scrapbooks of her precious cats. It was only the beginning of February, and already the senior class of Scranton High School was going crazy. The seniors were _done_ with doing homework, sitting through boring, mundane classes and the repetitive school assemblies. They were done with their teachers and listening to them. They were even done with their fellow classmates, and only wanted summer to start, and then university, where their _real_ lives would begin.

No one, however, was done with high school more than Jim Halpert.

It wasn't the pettiness of his fellow classmates, although Jim had been over that since the school year started. It wasn't the schoolwork, despite the fact that it was completely pointless, or his classes, which were useless as well. It wasn't the fact that he had something more to look forward to, such as attending university, though he'd give _anything_ for that to be the case.

Instead, it was Jim's classmates constantly scrutinizing him, talking about him behind his back, treating him like a fragile vase that was going to break at any given moment. Jim hated every day, every hour, every minute he spent at Scranton High School. He found himself loathing each passing period, because Katy offered to open his locker for him since it was getting harder for him to do so. He hated his English class more each day because Holly always volunteered herself to take Jim's notes for him because he now struggled to write his own name. He despised his teachers and the school administration doting on him, showering him with "extra" attention that he didn't want. It wasn't the people he hated, but he hated everybody treating him like an invalid, even though he practically was one.

**II**

"If you hate it so much, Jim, why don't you just withdraw and be homeschooled for the rest of the year?" Pam asked for the umpteenth time during lunch break, which she and Jim now spent at the park, away from Scranton High School.

"Because," Jim sighed languidly, letting the cheese sandwich he was holding fall onto the paper bag on his lap, not bothering to explain why he hadn't made plans to withdraw from Scranton High School.

"Because…. Why?" Pam said firmly, trying to get an answer from her boyfriend. Jim recoiled slightly; she was becoming like Jared almost, with her chiding stares, trying to get Jim to express himself when it was hard for him.

Since the new semester started, Jim became more withdrawn from everyone, including his family members and girlfriend. Whenever he spoke, he'd find his thoughts, the very things he wanted to tell people, trailing off, because he didn't know _what_ to say or how to explain his thoughts. There were also times when he didn't _want_ people, even his loved ones, knowing what his thoughts were.

After a pregnant pause, Jim spoke again. _"Because,"_ he said resignedly, "I don't want to leave and then have all the rumors ignite and get bigger than they already are! Kevin's already betting on when I'm going to kick the bucket, and he's even got underclassmen participating in it!"

"You can't take what Kevin says seriously, Jim," Pam consoled him as she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "He's the teacher's aide in my A.P. Graphic Design class, and Mr. Wallace won't let him use the Internet! Besides, he changes your projected 'date of death' everyday anyway – what is it now? President's Day Weekend?"

"Valentine's Day, actually," Jim laughed bitterly. "I personally think he's pushing it."

Pam smiled bemusedly, and then turned quiet while she got her sketchbook out from her book bag and began drawing idly. Jim looked over her shoulder to see what she was sketching: parts of the old playground, a wilting flower, the tree from where the two of them sat underneath while they ate lunch. He knew something was on her mind whenever she started drawing madly like this. Pam's art always had a motivation, a story behind it, and she always drew with utmost care, paying attention to the smallest details, as opposed to drawing aimlessly like she was now. Jim noticed that Pam was unusually fidgety. She only acted that way when something was bothering her. "Beesly, is something bothering you?" he inquired.

Pam threw down her sketchbook, exhaled slowly, and nodded. "There's something I want to tell you," she confessed a little nervously. "I've known for a long time, but I put off telling you because I wasn't sure how you'd take it."

"What's that?"

"I got accepted into the University of Scranton, and… I've also applied to Yale Art School."

Jim beamed. He was so proud of his girlfriend and all that she'd accomplished; that she'd grown so much and come out of her shell. He always loved her, even when she was quiet and shy, but she was now a confident, more beautiful young woman. "That's amazing, Beesly! I'm _really_ proud of you."

"Really, Jim?" Pam said.

"Of course I am," Jim replied. "Why wouldn't I be? Yale needs you to shake up their art department. I hope you get in."

Pam smiled and said, "I wasn't planning on applying to Yale. I did it all at the last minute. It hadn't even crossed my mind until I saw that old e – mail in my inbox." She chuckled and continued, "I never deleted it, even though it's nearly half a year old. I remember you telling me to give it a look after our counselor meetings back in October, but I never did until now. I'm glad I did, even though I was originally planning on staying here for a year… even after our counselor meetings, I still seriously considered it."

"You're insane, Beesly," Jim remarked, "To think that I'd be mad at you applying to Yale. We should be celebrating the occasion! How about Valentine's Day in _our_ booth?"

"I'd love to," Pam replied, her eyes sparkling, "Conditioned on the fact that you don't kick the bucket that day."

"Deal."

**III**

Even after all this time, Jim still couldn't believe his luck concerning his girlfriend, Pam, that someone so wonderful graced his presence on a daily basis, not just as a friend, but as something more. For a long time, Jim yearned to be _more than that_ – more than Pam's best friend and confidante, more than just some kid she grew up with, more than the person she played pranks on Dwight with and with whom she shared many of her classes and laughter with. He finally was, and it was finally a reality, even though at times it felt like a dream. The two of them sat in _their _booth at _Cugino's,_with Pam looking stunning in a fitted red blouse, a khaki skirt that highlighted all her assets and straightened hair. _Cugino's_ wasn't exactly formal, and although it was harder for Jim to do the everyday things he once did with ease, he put special care into his appearance, wearing a red tie and ironed white shirt, complete with a dress jacket and pants.

While waiting for their custom dish, a single plate of spaghetti with meatballs that they both shared, Jim held up his glass of cider and offered a toast, "To Fancy New Beesly, for her acceptance into the University of Scranton and for her application to Yale Art School! Your future is looking very bright. I'm sure Scranton will see great things from you." He clinked his glass with Pam's and drank deeply. After putting his glass down, he noticed Pam looking down again, and said, "Beesly, _what_?" Despite the fact that Pam had grown into a more confident person and became more assertive (especially when she was acting like Jared), she also had brief periods of timidity as well.

She looked up and asked, "Could you ever picture a future without me?"

Jim balked at Pam's question and hesitated. There _had_ been at time when he didn't have a choice _but_ to picture his future without Pam, back during those three years when she was with Roy. Even though the two of them had some rough spots in their courtship, they seemed genuinely happy together, and when Pam told Jim that she'd thought about staying in Scranton after high school, Jim knew that at one point, Pam envisioned a future that had Roy in it. It was only later when Jim suspected that the two of them were having trouble in their relationship and when Pam ended things with Roy, that she had pondered the very same question she just asked him. Once again, Jim found himself at a loss for words, not knowing how to answer Pam's question.

He knew that if the answer was "Yes", that it would hurt her deeply. His illness forced him to grow up faster than normal, and though it started making him a more withdrawn person who wasn't prone to sharing his thoughts and feelings, it gave him more of an insight into the thoughts and feelings of _other people._ Not knowing what to say, the two of them sat in an awkward silence, not touching the plate of spaghetti that just arrived for them.

Finally, Jim looked up and hesitated. "Pam," he said, "I had to, at one point."

"_Why?"_she asked darkly. "We were best friends, weren't we, and we're more than that now!"

"You seemed so happy with Roy, and sure there were some bumps along the road, but when you mentioned that you planned on staying in Scranton, and that you hadn't considered anything else up until now, I knew that at one point, you saw yourself with him for the long haul… and it hurt, because I loved you, but there was nothing I could do about it."

"Would we even be here right now if it wasn't for your illness?"

"I don't know," Jim admitted. "I'm sure I would've gotten around to telling you at one point… but after I was diagnosed, I was forced to grow up really fast, Beesly, and since we're together, I guess you were too."

Pam nodded. "The reason why I asked you that question…. and I guess the reason why it hurt so much to hear your answer, is because I look at what the future holds, Jim, and it's hard picturing you _not _being there. You've always been a constant in my life, and just knowing how much things will change, not just after high school, but other things…."

"It scares you," Jim said. "It scares me too, Beesly. Even though I didn't want to think about the future, now that people are planning their future lives after Scranton, it's hard for me, because I don't have that; and I'm human, I'm not perfect – there have been times when I've resented those around me… even _you,_ for actually _having_ a future when I don't get one. Plus, your future's so bright, and you have the whole world ahead of you, and what do I get? A funeral plot!"

Pam took Jim's hand and squeezed it. "I understand, Jim," she said soothingly. "It's been hard for the both of us, having to grow up so fast, especially you. But know that picturing my life without you gets harder everyday, like I knew it would when we decided to become a couple. Know that I will always love you, forever, no matter what, and that I'll always be working for that better tomorrow like you told me to during Christmas time."

Jim smiled, kissed Pam's hand, and replied, "Know also, that I won't hold you back in anything… now, why don't we get started on this plate of spaghetti?"

"Deal," Pam grinned. After that, the conversation became slightly lighthearted while the two of them shared the spaghetti dish. Finally, the two of them ate the opposite end of the last string of spaghetti, and ended their meal in a kiss.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**I**

Once March hit Scranton, Pennsylvania, it seemed as though the entire world stopped, making the days painfully slow, and the rampant senioritis on the Scranton High School campus even more severe. Yet, the seniors had a plan, a plan that chronicled their lives after high school, and how exactly they planned on living their lives. This plan kept them going, and made the days more bearable.

Pam, however, didn't have one, and neither did Jim – he _couldn't,_ there was just _no way_. In addition, Pam was still waiting for Yale's reply concerning her application; after her Valentine's Day dinner with Jim, she couldn't imagine not going there, nor could she imaging resigning herself to attend the University of Scranton for at least two years before accumulating all the credits necessary before transferring. She couldn't stand contemplating it.

Over the course of her senior year, Pam realized that she was made for bigger and better things than staying behind in Scranton forever, and her artwork was proof of that. She feared that she'd stay stuck in the small, dying city forever, and that fear increased each day she checked the mail to see if Yale had responded.

For nearly a month now, she checked the mail with both anticipation and nervousness rooted deep in the pit of her stomach. After getting the mail and going back into the house, she'd sort the mail into piles – bills, magazines, subscriptions, cards and letters, and then she'd save one for her, not even bothering to look at the return address too closely. Then, she'd look to see if Yale had responded – and for a while, Pam felt relieved. Maybe it was good that Yale hadn't responded yet; maybe it meant that they were taking their time and _really_ considering her for their art program. That was what Pam told herself each day there _wasn't_ a letter from them.

Her father always said that she'd hear back from Yale when she least expected it; it was the last week in March, and Pam figured that if Yale hadn't responded by now, that they never would. When her mom asked her to retrieve the mail, Pam did so grudgingly, only to find a single letter inside the mailbox. The letter was from Yale. Pam picked it up with trembling hands and opened it clumsily, taking out a single sheet of paper, now with fear etched upon her face. She remembered hearing that the smaller letters meant rejection, and wanting to face the possibility of rejection over with as quickly as possible, she began reading.

_Dear Pamela:_

_Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you admission to the Yale Art School for our upcoming fall semester, which will begin on September 15. We look forward to having you on campus and as an asset to our art program._

Pam was now an official student at Yale University, and there was only one person she wanted to tell, aside from her parents.

**II**

"Hello, James," Doctor Mifflin said quietly as he scribbled on his clipboard furiously.

"Hi Doctor," Jim returned nervously after being helped onto the examination table by Jared.

"How is the movement in your upper body? Is it getting harder for you to do things like write your name, pick up small objects… basically, everyday things?"

Jim sighed and nodded. He knew this was coming; he'd known for nearly a year that his time was limited, and the weekly appointments at Doctor Mifflin's office made it seem only more inevitable. Each time he had an appointment, he expected the news to be grim; at this point, Jim could only take things in stride. He'd accepted the fact that he was dying long ago, but not the fact that life would go on without him after he was gone. Even after all this time, it was still hard for him to picture a world without him in it.

Doctor Mifflin placed a stethoscope onto Jim's chest, moving it around sporadically, making slight grunting noises each time he did. He scribbled on his clipboard again, and then checked Jim's file, flipping through several papers and reading each of them thoroughly. "Well, James… according to your test results from last week, and from what you've told me today… there really isn't anything we can do for you, except let you enjoy… the little time you have left."

"How long is that?" Jim inquired.

"_Three months."_

Jim gulped as he felt the color drain from his face. Jared's head was in his hands. "Okay. Thanks, Doctor."

He had three months left to live, and only three months left to accept the fact that life would go on without him. The time to begin accepting that fact was _now._

**III**

"Hello?" Jim sounded tired when he answered the phone – unnaturally tired, even for someone who had a fatal illness.

"Jim?"

"Oh, Beesly… hey, you," he sighed. "What's up?"

"I got some news from Yale!" Pam exclaimed excitedly, unable to contain herself. "I got accepted!"

"That's… fantastic, Beesly," Jim answered, breathing slowly. "I'm proud of you…and glad that Yale accepted an artist like yourself."

"Jim, is something wrong?"

"There's – there's some… something you should know, Beesly," Jim exhaled, before breathing deeply again. "Stop by my house, okay?"

"Okay," Pam said, before hanging up the phone. Her best friend and love had been dying for nearly a year now, but the thought that something was seriously wrong didn't even cross her mind.

**IV**

When Pam stepped into the Halpert residence, it felt as though somebody had died. The atmosphere was extremely dark and heavy. There wasn't any life, any security, peace, or love in the Halpert residence like there once was. For the first time, Pam felt uncomfortable inside Jim's house, and she longed to leave. However, she couldn't; she had to see Jim.

"Beesly?"

Pam jumped. "_Jim!_ Jim, where are you?"

"Jim's upstairs." Pam turned around; it was Jared, still handsome as ever, save for his eyes, which now had a deep, vivid sadness in them. "Sorry I confused you. Jim just always calls you that, and I guess I picked up the habit," he laughed bitterly. "He's in his room, probably sleeping. He was really tired after the doctor's appointment today."

"_Doctor's appointment?"_

Jared shrugged, then nodded. "He's had them weekly for a while now, didn't he tell you?"

"No," Pam sighed, "He didn't."

"That doesn't surprise me," Jared said coldly. "He barely talks anymore. He's much more withdrawn than he used to be. He may have asked you to stop by, but he might not say much, if anything at all... was that the case?"

Pam nodded. "Is… something wrong, Jared?"

"I'll let Jim tell you that," Jared said darkly. "Let me take you up." Pam and Jared walked up to Jim's room slowly. When they got there, Jim was in bed. He was awake, but only slightly. His face looked ghastly pale, and his eyes were watery and red. "Pam's here, Jim," Jared said quietly before leaving. Before doing so, he looked at Pam sorrowfully, and she could've sworn that tears were visible in his eyes.

"Jim, are you okay?"

Jim groaned before speaking, then gave her a slight smile. "Well, if it isn't the Yale Art student herself."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Oh... I'm tired," Jim yawned, "But that's not why I asked you to stop by... there's something I need to tell you."

"What's that?"

"I – I'm withdrawing from school," he said. "I want to be at home as much as possible before…you know?"

Pam knew. Holding back the tears, she asked, "How much longer do you have?"

"Three months."

Pam turned away and cried. She couldn't stop, even though she wanted to. The eleventh hour was now reaching its end, and Pam felt unprepared, even though she knew it was coming. What she was going to do when Jim finally died, she didn't know.

"How do you feel?" Jim asked. When Pam turned around, she noticed that he, too, was crying.

"I don't know."


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

**I**

"Class, here are the senior year activity schedules," Mrs. Smoterich-Barr said dully while passing them out to each row of desks. While the seniors got their schedules and continued passing them down the rows, Mrs. Smoterich-Barr continued, "Details concerning these activities such as Prom night aboard the Lake Wallenpaupack ship _Princess_, the senior barbecue at Lake Scranton, your graduation ceremony, which will take place in the school auditorium, and of course, Grad Nite at the Snö Mountain Ski Resort, are all listed on your schedules… after looking them over, I sure wish I was back in high school."

No one, however, could tell if Mrs. Smoterich-Barr was being sarcastic, or if she was actually serious, because all the seniors were too busy talking about the upcoming end of year activities, and Mrs. Smoterich-Barr could've cared less about calming her unruly class of seniors after Spring Break ended. When the bell rang, all the seniors bolted out of Homeroom, except for Pam, who walked out slowly, scrutinizing her senior year activity schedule with disdain.

Scranton was a dying city that paid little attention to its schools, so Pam wasn't expecting the senior activities to _be that_ fun. The activities were the same every year; the barbecue at Lake Scranton, where the seniors would play a variety of games and eat hot dogs and other junk food until they were sick, the Graduation ceremony, and Grad Nite at the ski resort, where they played games, danced to bad music, attempted to get hypnotized by a hypnotist, and ate their weight in junk food, were all the same. She often heard from Jared that the senior barbecue and Grad Nite were a complete waste of money, and she wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

Prom night, however, didn't sound like it was going to be too bad. At least they were holding it off campus this year, and not in the old, decaying school gym like last year and years previous. The Prom theme, "Depths of Forever" was as tacky as Prom themes could get, but Pam had to admit that it suited the miniature cruise idea well. She couldn't think of anyone else she'd want to go with but Jim. Jim, whose abrupt withdrawal from school had been the talk of the seniors for weeks, and provoked Kevin's stupid bets to skyrocket. Jim, who was dying, and now spent his days at home, either being homeschooled by a tutor, or feeling completely bored. She visited him each day after school, and he was always glad to see her, and she, him. Since withdrawing from Scranton High School, Jim's days were now filled with doctor's appointments and being homeschooled; he rarely, if ever, left the house, and though he wanted to be at home for as long as possible, there was that part of him that missed being out in the open.

If anyone deserved to get out of the house, it was Jim.

**II**

After getting home from school, Pam dialed Mr. Halpert's phone number, hoping he wasn't working on a big case and that she wouldn't be disturbing his work. Although Pam knew that Jim's parents would be fine with her asking their son to Prom, she still wanted to be sure, and plus, it seemed like the polite thing to do.

After a few moments of elevator music, Pam was at last connected to Mr. Halpert's phone line. "Mr. Halpert, it's Pam."

"Good to hear from you, Pam! I heard you got into Yale – congratulations! That must be very exciting for you," Mr. Halpert greeted, attempting to sound jovial. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" Pam asked timidly, feeling somewhat guilty about Mr. Halpert's seemingly forced joviality. "I mean, you're not working on a big case right now, are you?"

"Not at the moment," Mr. Halpert answered. "What's up?"

"Well," Pam said, "I was wondering if it'd be okay with you if I asked your son to the school Prom."

**III**

After getting the okay from Mr. Halpert, made him and the rest of Jim's family swear to secrecy, promised her mom that she'd make up for using all the glass vases in the house, and sent a long thank you note to _McCarthy Flowers_ for buying out all the yellow roses in the shop, Pam got to work. It was tedious, trying to peel off the yellow rose petals of two hundred yellow roses without killing them off, but she did it. After arranging all the rose petals in all the vases, she drew a sketch of Jim sitting in his wheelchair, reaching into a vase filled with rose petals. She drew him the way she loved him best, with a wide grin on his face and his eyes filled with curiosity and warmth. Beneath the sketch was a brief note, which read:

_Jim,_

_Prepare to find a pleasant surprise! Good luck!_

_Love always,_

_~Beesly_

She'd place this note on the outside of Jim's door, and another sketch of the Lake Wallenpaupack ship _Princess_ gliding along the water against a full moon with stars in the sky, with Jim and Pam on the ship deck, deep inside one of the vases of yellow rose petals. Another note accompanied the drawing, which read:

_I would be deeply honored if you would accompany me to the Scranton High School Prom._

_~Beesly_

**IV**

While Jim was at his doctor's appointment with Jared, Pam went to his house, upstairs into his room, and placed the vases all over – one on his bookshelf, three went onto his nightstand, and two on his dresser. Some went onto the only closet shelf he could reach, others went onto his bed, and the last few were placed in the very back corner of his room. Pam hoped that he'd find the vase with the letter – the single one on his bookshelf rather quickly.

**V**

It was now sunset, and Pam wondered what Jim thought of what he found in his room. She knew that he'd been home for a while because from inside, she saw Jared pull into the driveway and get Jim out of the car and into the house. She knew Jim wasn't the person who'd say no to her reply, but she wondered when, and if, he'd reply back.

While flipping idly through one of her mother's home decor magazines, she heard a brief knock on the door. After getting up from where she was sprawled out lazily on the couch, she answered the door. On the doorstep was a bouquet of yellow roses with the note:

_I wouldn't want to go to Prom with anyone else but you._

_~Halpert_


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Chapter Thirty**

**I**

Jim fidgeted with the small, plastic box that held Pam's corsage – four large yellow roses accented with baby's breath and a gold ribbon. As Jared wheeled him up to the Beesly's front door, with his parents trailing slightly behind the two of them, the wind whipped at his skin and longish hair; Jim normally hated the wind, but after being stuck inside for the longest time, he welcomed it happily. After taking a deep breath, Jim knocked on the door and waited apprehensively, hoping that it'd be Pam who'd answer. After what seemed like forever, Mrs. Beesly finally answered the door. She looked at Jim sadly, but then changed her expression and let Jim and his family inside.

"It's good to see you," she said. "Pam's been looking forward to this for a while, now."

"So have I," Jim replied. "It feels good to be out of the house."

Mrs. Beesly smiled somewhat morosely before turning around and hollering, _"Pam! Are you ready yet?"_

"Almost!" Pam hollered. At the sound of Pam's voice, Jim felt chills at his very extremities – the anticipation was mounting, and he had to tell himself to calm down. He'd never been one of those people who cared about school events or school spirit, or who planned on peaking in high school, so _why_ was he looking forward to this night so much?

It was only when Mr. Beesly entered the room and said quietly, "She looks beautiful," that Jim understood.

Pam entered the room, both quietly and gracefully. She looked stunning in a long, flowing, strapless white dress, accented with gold earrings and some gold bangles dancing gently on her right wrist. Her hair was pulled back elegantly with a white ribbon, and she wore just enough make-up to light up her face. In her hands she held the plastic box that contained Jim's boutonniere – a single, yellow rose. When she approached him, Jim realized that he'd been holding his breath the entire time.

"_Wow,"_Jim exhaled slowly, "You… you're breathtaking." His hands fumbled as he opened the box that held Pam's corsage and got it out gently. Pam knelt next to him so that she was now at eye level with him and smiled. This was the cue for both sets of parents to start taking pictures of the two of them putting on the other's boutonniere and corsage. After Pam tried not to poke Jim with the boutonniere pin, he put her corsage onto her left wrist.

Before the two of them turned to face the cameras, Pam said, "You look handsome yourself," and then planted a kiss onto his lips while the cameras continued flashing.

**II**

Before the actual Prom, Jim and Pam made plans to meet the other seniors at Michael's house for group pictures. Jim was nervous at the prospect of seeing his former classmates again, and of them seeing how much he'd deteriorated since withdrawing from Scranton High School. "Don't worry about a thing," Pam consoled him as she parked the car in front of his house, "Everything's going to be fine – we're going to have fun tonight no matter what."

Jim nodded as the two of them entered the Scott residence. He laughed at the fact that Ryan, once again, somehow got drawn into being Kelly's date, and that she was sporting the flashiest, frilliest, most obnoxious pink dress that looked as though it was made in the eighties. She had Ryan sporting a bright pink bow tie to match, and their boutonniere and corsage were dark pink orchids, which clashed greatly with what they were wearing. "_Nice bow tie, Ryan!"_ Jim waved from his wheelchair as Ryan blushed deeply, his face nearly the same color as Kelly's dress. Jan and Karen, whose Prom dates were college students, were trying to look cool and collected in slinky, low-cut dresses that showed a lot of skin, and in Karen's case, was really tight at her waist. Jan, whose hair was pulled back somewhat harshly, kept a tight grip on her date, who looked as though he wanted to leave. At the same time, she stared jealously over at Michael and Holly (Who looked classy in a black, strapless dress and pearls, a la Audrey Hepburn); the couple couldn't keep their eyes off each other, and looked immensely happy. Meredith looked apathetic in a short, strapless red dress, as did her date; Jim had the feeling that they both showed up to Michael's house completely stoned. Creed, on the other hand, came in a disheveled suit and it appeared that he brought his sister along as his date; Jim felt the need to gag at the prospect, but not so much at Phyllis and Angela's need to be intimate with their dates, Bob and Dwight.

Kevin, Oscar, Andy and Darryl, didn't have dates of their own; it appeared that Oscar and Darryl decided to just go in the group for a good time, while Kevin and Andy couldn't find dates of their own. They planned on scanning the actual dance for girls to call their own. Stanley and his date, Terry, were cute together, and were having fun, until Michael expressed shock over Stanley's date being white, which caused Stanley to glare at Michael evilly. Toby's exotic-looking date, Sara, caused raised eyebrows from Kevin, who attempted to hit on her. Roy and Katy were together – Roy, in a tuxedo that was too small for him, and Katy, in a light pink dress who now seemed uncomfortable at the fact that her dress was a similar color to Kelly's. When Roy saw Jim and Pam enter, he approached the two of them.

"Hey Pam… Jim," Roy said uncertainly.

"Hi," Jim and Pam said in unison; Jim's reply was more casual, while Pam's was delivered coolly.

"You look great," Roy told Pam.

"Thanks, but we both have our own dates to have fun with," Pam answered shortly, causing Roy to become stunned at Pam's curt remark.

Noticing this, Jim said, "Hey, I think tonight will be a lot of fun."

"Yeah…" Roy's voice trailed off uncertainly. "Well, good to see you two," he said, before turning around and meeting up with Katy again.

Jim smiled up at Pam and said, "I know that was awkward, but let's put that behind us, okay?"

Pam nodded before Mrs. Scott called for everyone to gather around for the group pictures to begin. Jim looked around – sure, this was the most eclectic group of people he could ever go to Prom with. It was true that he became sick of associating with them (With the exception of Pam) on a daily basis, but right now, in the midst of being with the one he loved, and with all the people he grew up with and knew so well, he was having fun.

He didn't want it any other way.

**III**

By the time all the seniors reached The _Princess,_the dance floor was already in full swing, thanks to all the overeager juniors and their Prom dates. Kelly grabbed Ryan's arm and dragged him to the dance floor, and Kevin headed to the refreshment table, where he began stuffing his face. Noticing that the picture line was short, everyone else headed over to wait in line. Jan and her date were first, and she held her date a little too close for comfort, trying to prove that she moved on from Michael. Still, her eyes lingered over to Michael and Holly, who were both laughing over one of his "That's what she said!" jokes while they too waited in line for their picture.

When it was finally Jim and Pam's turn for their picture, Pam wheeled Jim over to the picture backdrop. The photographer surveyed Jim's wheelchair briefly and asked, "How do you plan on doing this?"

"Easy," Pam declared firmly. "I'll kneel." The photographer shrugged as Pam got down onto her knees. She placed her left arm around Jim's shoulders, and let her right hand rest underneath Jim's right shoulder. She turned and kissed his cheek just as the camera went off, then turned and smiled radiantly at it, as if asking the photographer to take a second picture.

He agreed.

**IV**

For once, people weren't scrutinizing Jim or his condition, but instead treated him like a normal person. He laughed at Michael's inappropriate jokes and at Creed stealing the ice sculptures like he did last year, bantered with Ryan, and endured Kelly's incessant droning about the current celebrity gossip.

Amazingly, Jim wanted to talk to everybody; he didn't realize until now how much he missed his fellow seniors, even though they were incredibly annoying and petty. Though they were flawed, they each had played a role in his life in some way, and despite the bad, had helped shaped him into the person he was today.

After surveying the dance floor briefly, where Kelly and Jan held death grips on their dates, he turned to Pam and asked, "May I have this dance?" Pam nodded, wheeled Jim out to the dance floor, and knelt down. She draped her arms around him and swayed her body along with the slow music playing. Breathing in her scent, Jim kissed Pam on the forehead, not wanting the moment to end. Like Christmas Eve night, Jim felt that he was the most fortunate person to ever live, despite his situation. "Thank you for doing this," he whispered to Pam.

"I wouldn't want anyone else to share this night with me but you," Pam said, as she leaned in and kissed Jim.

The sky was starry and it was a full moon. Jim looked at Pam, and again at his fellow classmates. They were annoying, funny, genuine, outgoing, frustrating, irritating, blunt, gossiping, endearing, and ultimately, good people, Pam being the best of them all. Life would go on without him, his fellow classmates would move on and some would accomplish great things in life; others wouldn't_. "Some of these people might not even remember me,"_Jim mused silently to himself, but he would never forget them. Life had been good to Jim; he'd been brought up in a loving home, with good parents and older brother, throughout his entire life, he had the best friend anyone could ask for, and now this best friend was someone who loved him for who he was. He'd been blessed with many gifts and talents, and with the influence of those around him. Although Jim was dying, and that time was coming sooner than he'd like it to, he'd grown so much in a single year, and became the person he was today: someone still humorous and confident, but who was sure of himself, who was mature, and who had perspective.

Life wasn't great, but Jim wouldn't trade it for anything. To know the good, he had to know the bad; he had to know both in order to enjoy the journey. There were some aspects of his life that he wouldn't wish on anybody, but those very aspects made him who he was, and helped him appreciate his life, and the best things about it. He looked up at the sky again, than again at his fellow classmates at Prom, enjoying the night, enjoying one of the last nights of innocence before their real lives began. He looked at Pam again, whose face was radiant, and kissed her.

Life was beautiful, despite everything, despite an imminent death.


	31. Chapter Thirty One

**Chapter Thirty-One**

**I**

Summer was in the air, but there wasn't any fun to be had – at least, not in Pam's case. She sat on the sidewalk curb outside her house, staring absently across the street at the light blue minivan and the dark green Toyota Corolla that were parked outside the Halpert residence. Pam sighed – both sets of Jim's grandparents arrived in Scranton shortly before school let out, immediately after Doctor Mifflin told Jim and his family, "Any day now." They each came a day apart from each other, for the inevitable, so-called "finale" that no one wished to speak of.

Pam sighed again. It was _so_ ironic, how shortly after Prom night, Jim's already terrible condition changed for the worst; he could no longer use his hands or pick up things. His body was completely paralyzed, save for his head, which he could still turn from side to side. Thankfully, Jim still had his mind and his sense of humor, but Pam saw less of it, because Jim was often exhausted and now slept for long periods of time. It was as though Jim held on because of _her._

Although Pam visited Jim daily, each day was harder than the last. She soon grew tired of the sad, sympathetic looks Jared gave her each time she visited, and seeing Mr. and Mrs. Halpert trying to keep things together, though that hope was futile. Mrs. Halpert fell apart a long time ago, and though her husband remained strong for the majority of his son's illness, it was finally starting to get to him now that the end was nearing. Since the time in which Jim told Pam that he only had so little time left, she watched as the Halpert residence went from being a home, to simply a house where its inhabitants simply slept, watched television read books or the newspaper, and in Jim's grandmother's case, cooked large amounts of food. Pam always came home from Jim's house feeling sick and unsettled, partly due to all the scents of the excess food mingling together.

It was three in the afternoon, and Pam hadn't been by to visit Jim yet. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't; she was constantly on edge whenever she was there, and the littlest things now made her cry nonstop. This carried on when she returned home each night – her father asking her a simple question would provoke an hour-long crying jag or an argument over the smallest matter. She snapped at her mother, lost weight, and hadn't picked up her sketchbook in weeks. When the Graduation festivities came around during the end of the school year, Pam tried to be ecstatic about them, but couldn't do it; the only good thing that came from the activities was at the actual ceremony, where Jared, with tears streaming down his face, accepted Jim's diploma for him. Also, Mr. Brown shared a few words about Jim and how he'd made life at Scranton High School livelier, and the entire senior class, the smallest graduating class that Scranton High School had ever known, knew it was true, too. None of the other seniors, especially Dwight, wanted to admit it, but they missed Jim, and were sad that he couldn't graduate with them. Pam knew without a doubt that there wasn't a single dry eye among them at the ceremony.

Life was indeed bleaker without Jim by her side. It was completely boring, and now she was grateful that she was done with high school forever. She now understood how Jim felt about the pettiness of their fellow classmates; surely none of them ever had to deal with such a life-changing event like the two of them were.

Jim's imminent death was taking a toll on Pam more than she cared to admit.

**II**

Hours went by with Pam just sitting on the curb, staring helplessly at Jim's house before actually going there. She was sitting idly in front of her house, contemplating when she should visit Jim when a loud, jarring noise lifted her out of her trance.

She looked up to see three faces staring at her from inside a brand new, silver Legacy Subaru. The driver rolled down his window, revealing thick, blonde curly hair, brown eyes, and the same, sharply chiseled facial features that first greeted her at Princeton's art convention nearly a year before. Roger was slightly thinner, but still handsome as ever, and Pam could care less.

Sitting next to Roger was a young woman with striking features and dark skin. Her once, short black hair was now flowing to her waist in beautiful waves, and no longer had the colored streaks that covered her hair nearly a year ago. She smiled at Pam and waved to her – Cordelia.

The window directly behind Roger's seat rolled down and revealed another young woman with pale skin and the same, bright red hair that was now cut short and blunt, and fell asymmetrically across her face. Pam's first instinct was to glare at her, at this very person who tried to make things hard for her at last year's art convention – Mithra.

Car doors slammed. Pam heard footsteps, and then the small thuds of two people sitting next to her. She turned, only to fall into Cordelia's gentle embrace.

"Pam, how have you been?" she inquired gently.

"W-why are you here?" Pam asked in return, her voice both curious and wobbly.

"Your dad called us," Roger said quietly, motioning for Mithra, who was still sitting in the car, to get out. She obliged reluctantly. Roger rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Pam. "Your dad says you're a nervous wreck."

Pam shrugged as tears streamed down her face. "Jim's dying," she whispered morosely.

Upon realizing who Jim was, Roger put his arm around Pam and asked, "How long?"

"He's been sick for a little over a year," Pam trembled. "And… the doctor's said any day now."

Roger opened his mouth to speak again, but shut it when it dawned on him what Pam had just said. After a brief pause where no one spoke, Roger said, "So when we met at the art convention… he was sick then, too?"

Pam nodded.

"_Wow,"_ Roger said, completely awestruck.

Pam buried her face in her hands, letting her emotions flow freely – sorrow over the fact that Jim, _her_ Jim, was going to die at any given moment, anger at her father for interfering despite the best intentions, and shock, confusion, and frustration as to why Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra were visiting her, even though she knew why. Cordelia and Roger continued to hold and comfort her as she continued crying.

After finally breaking away from them, Pam wiped the tears from her eyes hastily and said, "It's hard. It's _really_ hard… but I… I want to see Jim."

**III**

Since Jim could no longer pick up his phone, Pam wasn't surprised when Jared answered. After asking if she could bring Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra over to see Jim with her, the four of them crossed the street to his house; both the blue minivan and the green Toyota Corolla were gone.

When Pam entered the house with Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra, Jared was in the kitchen, furiously scrubbing an assortment of dishes.

"Hey, Jared," Pam greeted somewhat nervously, standing in the kitchen doorway. "Do you… need any help?"

"No," Jared muttered, after putting a hand to his forehead and sighing. "I _finally_ got my parents and grandparents out of the house, and I'm using the opportunity to get rid of all the excess food my grandma made." He smiled slightly and continued, "Jim's upstairs. He's been wanting to see you, like he always does."

Pam smiled back and said, "Thanks, Jared," before motioning for Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra to follow her upstairs to Jim's room. She admired Jared's strength during this turbulent time for the Halpert family, for keeping everyone together and for not falling apart when everyone else was. It was evident now how much Jared was like his father, not just in the looks department, but also in personality and quiet determination. However, Jared was still strong, even though his father was just beginning to fall apart;_that_ was something Jared inherited on his own. Pam was grateful for Jared's strength, and she knew that Jim was too.

**IV**

When the four of them reached Jim's bedroom door, Pam stopped, and breathed slowly before entering, like she did each time she visited him. His bedroom was no longer _Jim's_ bedroom – after Jim started receiving hospice care a month ago, _his_ room now became just an old room he slept and lied in bed in. It smelled like soap and various hospital cleaners, and a long, table stood at the very back of his room, laden with pain medications, bed sheets, and other supplies. Instead of lying in his own bed, Jim was in a hospital bed, where a catheter was attached to the bottom of it, along with a heart monitor, which beeped monotonously in the background. He was hooked to an I.V. that stood on the left side of his bed. His cheekbones were visible and nearly popped out of his pale, waxy skin. His light brown hair was still longish, and the front of it was matted and stuck to his sweaty forehead. His arms, which Jared, or someone else, must've moved from underneath the blankets, laid out in front of him and looked like sticks that could easily break in half, sticking out from the short sleeves of a gray shirt that was too big on him.

Pam turned around and looked briefly at Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra before turning back to Jim. Despite his decaying condition, she still saw Jim as the healthy, good-looking prankster she knew best; the fact that he nearly resembled death himself didn't faze her. She bent down, holding his hand, kissed him on the cheek, and said softly, "Hey, you."

Jim blinked before turning his head just slightly to face Pam. "H-hey yourself," he breathed, clearly exhausted. "A-are these friends of yours?"

Pam nodded. "I met them at the art convention I went to last year," she replied. Beckoning to them, she said, pointing to each one, "This is Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra… they want to meet you."

Roger looked at Pam nervously and walked over to where Jim was and said, "Pam's told me _so_ much about you… you're a great friend – "

"Don't forget boyfriend," Jim said, laughing weakly, "But thanks."

Although Roger's face was beet red, he smiled back at Jim, who had that familiar, playful glint shining in his eyes despite his predicament.

Afterward, Cordelia and Mithra each met and interacted with Jim. Pam didn't think that he'd have much in common with the two art students, but the three of them surprisingly had a long discussion full of witty bantering. Jim became the only one thus far who could get Mithra to shake of the cold, hard exterior she always wore.

**V**

The minutes melted away, and soon Jared decided to join the five of them upstairs. They talked and alighted about subjects ranging from art to the best practical joke Jim ever pulled. Pam held Jim's hand the entire time, not wanting to let go. She looked at her watch – it'd been nearly three hours since Pam had arrived at his house with Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra in tow, and it was like he had known the three of them for a long time and were all close friends. He always had that ability, to bring those he barely knew together; even in the most horrible circumstances, he had a way of uniting the people around him.

Soon, it was time to go. Pam kissed Jim on the lips and said soothingly, "I love you."

When she turned around and faced Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra, tears were visible on their faces; even Mithra, the toughest of them, couldn't hold hers in – no one could, not after meeting a dying Jim Halpert.


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

**I**

Pam's spirits had slightly lifted somewhat slightly since Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra arrived in Scranton. Since they arrived, she felt her friendships with Roger and Cordelia grow stronger, and while she couldn't say the same about Mithra, Pam was still grateful for her newfound kindness and support. Since arriving in Scranton a week and a half ago, Pam was still baffled as to why her three friends planned on spending part of their summer vacation in a dying city when they had better things to do, but at the same time, she knew why they came, and why they were staying.

Daily visits with Jim still continued – sometimes Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra accompanied Pam, sometimes, she went alone. Other times, she'd be surprised to see one of her former classmates visiting Jim. Pam was glad to see that he had other visitors – sometimes, his visitors left gifts, like a beet plant. She saw the beet plant sitting on the nightstand next to Jim's bed and touched it gently. Turning to Jim, she said quietly, "You have more of an influence than you think… you know that, right, Halpert?"

Jim, who'd been going in and out of consciousness for days, smiled back drowsily and replied tiredly, _"That's what she said,"_before going back to sleep.

Pam kissed his forehead before she left.

**II**

The day before, Scranton witnessed the biggest heat wave the city had ever known. Pam kept her visit with Jim brief, than went with Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra in search of a community swimming pool free of overstressed mothers and their overeager little kids. They finally found one three hours from Scranton, and spent the entire day, and well into the evening, swimming, laughing and playing games.

When the four of them returned to Scranton at four-fifteen in the morning, they were exhausted, yet exhilarated from the previous day's events, and immediately fell asleep once their heads hit the pillows. Of the four of them, Pam was the first to wake up at two-twenty-four in the afternoon. She woke up feeling _slightly_ uneasy, but otherwise felt refreshed from sleeping in and happy about the good time she'd had with her friends the day before. Noticing that they were still asleep, she stepped out of bed and got dressed quietly.

She crossed the street over to Jim's house and walked in. The house had the look of being too tidy, and felt empty, like no one was home. Pam turned around, confused, and looked out the front window from where she was standing; the same, dark green Toyota Corolla and light blue minivan were still parked in front of the house, along with the cars both Mr. and Mrs. Halpert drove, as well as the black 1995 Infiniti Q45 that Jared purchased fairly recently, much to the frustration of his parents, who wanted him to save his money for the fall, where he'd begin medical school at John Hopkins University. Parked in the driveway next to the Infiniti was the old, blue 1984 Honda that Jim used to drive. Pam didn't know why, but when she saw the ancient, beat-up car, a small lump formed in her throat. She turned away from the window and called out nervously, _"Jim?"_

"We're all up here," Jared hollered from upstairs. Pam nodded to herself and slowly ascended up the stairs, her feelings of uneasiness increasing as she did so. She paused before opening the door. When she finally did, all of Jim's immediate family was in his room, but Pam only saw _him._

The uneasiness in her stomach increased as her eyes fell on Jim. He looked so frail, even more so from when she'd seen him just yesterday. Ignoring her nerves, Pam rushed to Jim's bedside and took hold of his hand.

"Jim…" Pam's voice trailed off helplessly as she watched him sleep, his slightly skeletal chest rising and falling. She could hear his slow, labored breathing in rhythm with the heart monitor, which beeped languidly and continued to slow down. _"Jim, I'm right here,"_ she said, not taking her eyes off him. _"I'm here."_

**III**

"_Jim, I'm right here."_

The voice was distant, almost like an echo. For a while, Jim hadn't seen anything except darkness; he hadn't heard anything, either. He had no idea where he was, if he was alive, dead, or somewhere in between. He couldn't see where he was or where he was going. He was confused.

Until Pam brought him back.

"_I'm here."_

Jim opened his eyes in alarm, panting, looking around his bedroom with his eyes only, surveying everything. His brother stood in the corner, tears glistening in his eyes with a frown upon his face. Jared looked slightly thinner as well. He was sad, but also had a new, determined look flashing in his eyes. It now occurred to Jim why Jared was going to medical school – he was doing it for him. His parents stood a few feet away from Jared, embracing each other tightly. They would need each other more than ever once the inevitable happened. Both sets of grandparents were in the room as well; they visited every summer, this one, no exception. Jim smiled at them slightly, wishing that their annual summer visit wasn't under such grim circumstances.

He sighed, knowing that sometimes life played out that way, but oddly, it was okay.

"Jim, it's okay," Pam soothed, using her right hand to caress his face while still using her left hand to hold his. "I'm here. We're _all_ here, and we love you."

Jim sighed slowly and turned his head ever so slightly to look at Pam. He needed to ask her something, and had no idea how to do so, but time was running out. It was now or never. He exhaled slowly and breathed, "Eulogy?"

**IV**

Pam stiffened at Jim's request to deliver his eulogy. The feelings of doubt and uneasiness that were lodged deep in the pit of her stomach intensified. It was inevitable, she'd known for over a year now that Jim was going to die, and that it would happen whether she liked it or not. Jim was going to die. Soon.

She breathed deeply and hesitated before responding to his request.

"I would be honored."

**V**

_Jim felt lighter than air._

_He stood in a large, green, grassy field, underneath a pastel blue sky, in another part of his dreamland. __**Their **__dreamland. He remembered Pam mentioning the several cryptic dreams she had over the previous summer, and how similar they were to his own. It'd been so long since he was there, so long since she'd been there. It'd been so long since he stood, so long since he took a single step. Jim could walk, and it was exhilarating, to walk again, to run, and jump into the air. But he could still hear their voices, their racked sobs filling the air around him. His mother's were the loudest of all._

_He was still alive, even though every muscle in his body had stiffened, and could no longer function. He knew he was alive because their voices were loud, and resonated in the air around him. Phrases such as, "I love you," "Be strong," "I'll miss you," encircled him, getting louder and louder. He was tempted to scream at them, to tell them all to stop, but he couldn't. Jim could only tell his family that he loved them back._

**VI**

So he did. Jim opened his eyes for the final time, and said those three words before closing them again.

**VII**

_Jim was in the field again. The voices were gone, but he knew he was still alive. He could feel it. Slowly, however, his environment began changing._

_The grass beneath his feet turned to sand. The sky was still blue, but the scent of the ocean filled his nostrils slightly. Jim could see a bright blue ocean in front of him – very reminiscent of the ocean he saw on the various beaches he visited in Australia last summer. As this new environment surrounded him, he could hear Pam's voice, like an echo, growing more distant, fill his ears._

"_I love you. So__** much. I**__ love you more than you'll ever know."_

_Jim knew this was true. After she spoke, he could no longer hear the voices. He looked at the beach again; trailing along the sand were various yellow rosebushes._

_His question was finally answered._

**VIII**

The time was three-forty-five in the afternoon, and the first tear fell.


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

**I**

Food had no taste.

Her sketchbook sat on her desk, waiting to be used, collecting dust.

Doing the simplest of tasks was harder than ever.

She couldn't move.

She couldn't breathe.

She could only stare at the walls, or at pictures of Jim, analyzing every detail of his face and body.

Life lost its meaning.

**II**

After Jim died, Pam found herself falling down onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. When Jared tried to help her up a few minutes later, she pushed him out of her way and ran from the Halpert residence, the tears still falling from her face. Pam ran with the intent of leaving Jim's family in peace, to take in what they'd just witnessed – the death of a son and brother. She ran because she couldn't bear to see their reactions. She ran to find some level of solace. She ran to put off telling her parents, even though she was sure that Jim's parents would. She ran because she didn't want to tell Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra.

Yet.

Pam ran to get away.

Shortly after she left the Halpert's house, Pam found herself at John Dickson Park, which looked decayed beyond belief – all the playground equipment was falling apart, and various parts of the equipment, from the swings, to the monkey bars and carousel, were scattered all over the place. Even the grass was dying. She walked over to the old swing set, and sat on one of the swings that was still intact, dragging her feet back and forth, looking down at the ground, watching as her feet moved forward and backward along with the motion of the swing. It was better than looking up.

When Pam turned idly at stared at her watch, it was seven-fifty; she forced herself to look up and noticed that the sun was setting. With tears still falling down her cheeks, Pam slowly got up from the swing she was sitting on and walked home. She looked straight ahead the entire time, and was determined to _not_ look at the Halpert's house.

When she finally got to her house, she opened the door slowly. Her parents, along with Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra, were sitting in the family room, as though waiting for her return. Upon meeting their gazes, she broke down all over again.

**III**

Pam became a hermit.

For the first day after Jim's death, she stayed in her room, either staring at the wall, or staring at the various pictures of Jim she had scattered all over her bed – one of Jim and Pam during their babyhood, giggling up at the camera, their brand new teeth visible. Another was of their first day of Kindergarten; Pam's hair was combed and pulled back neatly, and she wore a brand new dress and shoes, while Jim's hair was messy, like it always was, and his collared shirt was untucked, much to his mother's frustration. Pam felt herself smiling slightly at the memory, and than at the next picture of the two of them smiling widely up at the camera with fudgesicle all over their faces, holding up the sticks proudly. Than came the "awkward" middle school phase, with Pam's bushy hair and Jim's orthodontia. The pictures of the two of them in high school were the best – pictures from Jim's basketball games, awkward parties at Michael's house, the art show that Roy was absent from, but where Jim showed up with a bouquet of flowers for her... Pam noticed, for the first time, that Jim's eyes always lit up whenever she was next to him, and that her eyes did too. He looked so healthy and vibrant in those pictures, that it seemed so unnatural to know that he was no longer alive… when Pam finally came to the two prom pictures, and to the few pictures of the two of them during his last days, she had to turn them over. Jim looked so gaunt and sickly – he looked almost like death itself… nothing at all like the Jim Pam knew and loved deeply.

Yet, she couldn't bring herself to do anything _but_ look at those pictures longingly, wishing that he was still alive.

She demanded that Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra keep their distance. At one point, she even told them to leave Scranton, but they insisted on staying.

"For moral support," Mithra told her comfortingly, "We're not going anywhere. We're you're friends, and we're going to be here for you." Although they stayed in Scranton, even though there was nothing for them to do, they honored Pam's wishes and didn't speak, or go near her the days following Jim's death, and she was grateful, because it was what she needed. She needed peace and quiet, especially since she had a most daunting task ahead of her: writing Jim's eulogy.

Miniature balls of crumpled pager scattered her bedroom. Pam couldn't bring herself to start writing Jim's eulogy until two days before his actual funeral, and she never found herself satisfied with what she came up with. She only had so little time to deliver the eulogy, yet she yearned to say _so much –_with the exception of Jim's family, she knew him best. There was more to Jim than met the eye – the way he smiled while he spoke to her, the way he tilted his head when he shrugged his shoulders or was confused, the way his laugh was contagious, and how he could make others laugh within a short period of time… but the way he looked at Pam, like he _truly_ knew her and her thoughts, even when she hadn't said anything to him, was one of the things Pam knew that others didn't. She looked down at the paper she was writing on and sighed. Even though the page was full, she'd put down only a single sentence in the course of an hour and a half; drawings of Jim filled up the rest of the page. Pam wasn't a good writer – would Jim be okay with her if she presented his eulogy in a slide show of sketches? Or if she got her father to write the eulogy for her, since he was good at expressing himself with words, unlike her?

Pam sighed and put her head into her hands, frustrated, when her mother walked in.

"_Mom,"_ Pam groaned, "I want to be _alone_."

Mrs. Beesly ignored her daughter and strode over to where she was sitting, and put her arms around her daughter. "Those are some really good sketches, honey," she said, touching the paper gently.

"Mom, I'm supposed to be writing a eulogy, not sketching pictures," Pam sighed morosely; she'd run out of tears at this point. "I… I don't think I can do this – write Jim's eulogy." She broke down into sobs again and continued crying while her Mom held her.

"Honey… you have to come up with something," Pam's mom reminded her. "The funeral is in two days."

Pam looked up and sighed. "I know that, Mom," she said, wiping the last few tears from her eyes, "But I don't know what to do! I'm… I'm not good at writing like Dad is! I… I can't quite express myself with words." Mrs. Beesly looked at Pam pointedly.

"What about those messages you've written in his yearbooks? You were always able to express exactly what you wanted to in those cases," her mom said. "Why not now?"

"You're right, Mom," Pam said resignedly. She turned to the piece of her paper on her desk and looked at the drawings again, touching the piece of paper gently. "I could write his eulogy, but couldn't I…"

"Also have sketches to go along with it?"

Pam nodded.

Mrs. Beesly placed her hand on top of her daughter's and said, "I have the feeling that Jim would like that. Very much."

**IV**

It was easier said than done.

After retrieving her sketchbook that hadn't been used in ages, Pam drew the sketches with both ease and grace. Using her own photographs, she drew Jim from every stage of life, but her favorite drawings were the ones of Jim in which she remembered him best: smiling, laughing, pulling endless pranks on Dwight, telling jokes, glowing vibrantly with health and color. Pam worked well into the evening and all day the next day on these sketches, and was satisfied with the end result.

At around eight in the evening, the night before Jim's funeral, Pam became nervous. The drawings were done, but the actual eulogy wasn't; she hadn't even written a word. The funeral was at nine o'clock the next morning and she had so little time to get it done. She'd been at her desk all day and wanted to get up and stretch. She rose from her chair and walked out of her room and onto the front porch of her house. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized that she was staring at Jim's house for the first time since he'd died. The house looked the same as always, meticulously cleaning with a colonial charm to it. Both sets of grandparents were still there and would probably leave some time after the funeral. The lights were on upstairs; she noticed that the light in Jim's room was on, even though his body was no longer there.

She wondered who was in his room – his parents, still processing their son's death? Perhaps packing up his room into boxes, with plans to make it impersonal so that it wouldn't be hard to walk by it everyday? Or would they keep everything intact so that _some_ semblance of their son would still remain?

Maybe Jared was in there, letting the fact that his brother was no longer alive, sink in. Pam looked away from Jim's house and up at the stars – it was a confusing time for all of them, and she was no exception. What she'd give to be inside Jim's room again, joking and laughing around with him, but she knew that was impossible. He was dead, and nothing could change it. She could only move forward at this point, and write a eulogy that was true to how Jim lived his life – he dreamed as if he'd live forever, and live as if he'd died that very day.

Pam turned away from the stars, retreated back to her room, and sat down at her desk after placing a fresh new notepad in front of her.

She began writing.

**V**

It was seven in the morning when Pam woke up. She felt numb and sickly at the task ahead of her. She got up from her desk slowly, showered, and got ready quickly because she had to be at the Forest Hill Cemetery, the location of the funeral, a half an hour early, so that she could set up the slideshow of her sketches that was accompanying her eulogy, and gather her thoughts as well. Her parents would meet her at the funeral later on, along with Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra, who insisted on coming even though they'd only met Jim once.

It was the most beautiful day. The sun was shining and not a single cloud was in the sky. The nice weather stayed as Pam drove to the cemetery and set up her slideshow at the outdoor chapel – Jim would've wanted it that way. She sat on the stand, which faced the audience, and watched while the guests showed up. The entire senior class was there, Kelly, wearing black, but still looking outlandish as ever, Angela, looking matronly in a frumpy black dress that looked like it was made in pioneer times, accompanied by Dwight, who wore a dressy, black tuxedo, Creed, in the same disheveled suit he wore at prom, Phyllis and Bob, together, Phyllis, with a large rock on her left ring finger… Pam felt slightly envious at the sight, knowing that she'd never get to have the life she wanted with Jim. Yet, she was appreciative, and was grateful for how small and well knit the kids she graduated were. Even though she didn't get along with these people, the ones she grew up with, all the time, she was grateful, all the same, that they showed up. Even Roy was there, in a suit that was too small for him. She watched as old teachers and school principals walked in, some looking confused, others, like Mr. Brown, sad that a young life ended long before it was time. Other kids from Scranton High School came as well, even though some of them didn't even know Jim. For a while, there was talking, long discussions being held over the young man who'd recently just left this earth. Pam could hear Michael speaking loudly and crazily above all the others, but even he went silent at the sight of the pallbearers bringing in Jim's casket, his family following slowly behind.

Everyone stood and watched the pallbearers bring in Jim's casket. Jared was at the very front, a deep sadness penetrating in his eyes, looking deeply confused and slightly angry. Pam recognized a few of Jim's cousins from the Halpert side of the family who were also acting as pallbearers, as they looked like Jared. She spotted one who had Jim's nose, and another one who had his stubbornly messy hair. After the casket, adorned with yellow roses, was set down, Jim's family, also consisting of his aunts, uncles, and cousins, sat in the first few rows, signaling for everyone else to take their seats again.

Pam exhaled nervously. It was almost time.

A middle-aged man in a nice business suit stood from his place on the stand and approached the pulpit.

"Today we are here to mourn the loss of a life taken from us too soon. James Duncan Halpert, better known as Jim, touched each of our lives in some way, whether we knew him well or not. His life, though short, was not unfulfilling. He lived by James Dean's philosophy, 'Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today'. Pam Beesly, Jim's childhood best friend, and for a while, his significant other, knew him well. She will be delivering the eulogy, and will give us more of an insight into the kind of life Jim lived." He turned to Pam and looked at her sympathetically, but also with a firm look in his eyes, as if asking, "_Are you ready to do this?"_

Pam nodded and stood up after the man took his seat, and turned to the audience. "As many of you know, I'm Pam Beesly. I grew up with Jim and was his best friend throughout his entire life and his significant other for nearly a year before his passing. Shortly before Jim died, he asked me to deliver the eulogy. I accepted, but wasn't sure if I could do it. I agonized for days and nights before this day over it." She took a deep breath before continuing.

"Before I begin, I'd like to tell you all that Jim's friendship and love meant the world to me. He was always encouraging me to do my very best in everything I pursued. One of those things was art. To accompany the eulogy, I've decided to play a slideshow of pictures that I've drawn of him. These sketches serve as a catalogue of Jim over the years from my own personal memory. To start, I'd like to read a poem that's brought me some peace concerning this whole ordeal, and that I hope brings you some as well."

Pam turned on the slideshow, which was set to soothing, acoustic guitar music that softly played in the background, and began.

"When God calls little children to dwell with Him above,

"We mortals sometime question the wisdom of His love.

"For no heartache compares with the death of a small child,

"Who does so much to make our world, seem wonderful and mild.

"Perhaps God tires of calling the aged to his fold,

"So He picks a rosebud, before it can grow old.

"God knows how much we need them, and so He takes but few,

"To make the land of Heaven more beautiful to view.

"Believing this is difficult still somehow we must try,

"The saddest word mankind knows will always be 'Goodbye.'

"So when a little child departs, we who are left behind,

"Must realize God loves children, Angels are hard to find."

"Whether or not you believe in God, this poem, titled 'Little Angels', written by an unknown author, _does_ speak a truth: angels _are_ hard to find. Jim was one of them, and maybe that's why he was called back… to liven up heaven a little bit. Jim was born to Daniel and Larissa Halpert on October twentieth, where he was their second child, after his older brother, Jared…."

As Pam continued speaking, she felt her nerves disintegrate completely. She was able to look at the audience square in the eye, and not once, lost her place or stuttered over a word. Although tears began clouding her eyes toward the end, she continued, and even saw that the audience was in tears as well – even Dwight, who showed no emotion, had tears falling down his cheeks. The slideshow continued and the music played on as she finished.

After saying the concluding words, she turned off the slideshow and went back to her seat, feeling relieved. She knew she'd done well. A musical number was performed, Jared said a few words, and then the man conducting the meeting invited anyone who wanted to, to come to the stand and say a few words about Jim. To Pam's surprise, Dwight was the first one to walk up to the stand and do so. She cringed at first, thinking that he would speak while impersonating Mussolini or Lenin as he banged his fists wildly, but instead, he was very solemn.

"Even though Jim played a lot of unnecessary pranks on me, he was a good guy, and will be sorely missed." He nodded, and then took his seat.

All of seniors stood and had things to say about Jim, along with his former teachers and principals. When they spoke, they spoke as if Jim wasn't dead, like he was on some trip and would return home soon. The last part of his funeral was spent reminiscing and laughing at all the pranks Jim pulled and the good times. Pam couldn't help but smile and laugh along – she could no longer see his casket in front of her, or the sad faces that were once on people's faces. Even Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra went up to the stand and said a few words.

"I only met Jim once, and that was shortly before he died," Roger said. "But he influenced me more than he thought. Jim Halpert influenced people more than he thought he did. Today is proof of that."

Roger was the last to speak. Once the good memories ended, and the service ended, Pam felt hollow, and she finally realized where she was. When the audience stood up, Pam, along with them, and watched as the pallbearers carried Jim's casket toward the gravesite, his family, trailing close behind, the tears fell again.

**VI**

After the Halpert family left the outdoor chapel, those who attended the funeral were directed to where Jim would be laid to rest. Pam joined her parents and held onto them tightly as Jim's casket was lowered into the ground. She wanted to break down, but at the same time, _wanted_ and _needed_ to remain strong, for herself, and for Jim's family. She was able to keep the tears at minimum until the very end, when it occurred to her.

Jim wasn't coming back.

She'd never see his smiling face, or those beautiful green eyes of his, hear his laugh, or his voice, again. She'd never get another opportunity to hug or kiss him.

Pam would never see Jim again.

She fell to the ground and sobbed loudly, pushing away those who tried to lift her from it. This wasn't the first time Pam had broken down over Jim's death, and it wouldn't be the last.

**VII**

Long after everyone else left, Pam still stood at Jim's freshly dug grave, the smell of dirt penetrating her nostrils strongly. She never felt so alone or confused before in her life. She'd known for a long time that Jim wasn't going to live, that he'd be leaving this earth. Pam felt that she'd handled Jim's death fairly well, and did a fine job at delivering the eulogy, but now her future looked uncertain and bleak, despite the fact that everyone she knew told her otherwise. She had no idea how she was going to handle life without her best friend and love by her side. Even though she knew that Jim would die, she felt unprepared for it. Still. Even after it happened.

Pam exhaled sharply, and let the yellow rose she'd been holding fall gently onto Jim's grave, not caring that the thorns on the rose pierced her skin and that it was now bleeding profusely. She thought she'd ran out of tears, that her grief was beyond them, but she realized that in her current situation, that there could never be enough tears shed even though she felt past them.

"Goodbye, Jim," she whispered hoarsely, as the tears continued falling down her face, "I'll miss you."


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

**Ten Years Later**

**I**

It had been ten years since Pam was last in Scranton. Ten years since her best friend and lover died, and ten years since the first and last time she visited him. The aftermath of Jim's funeral, of Pam still living in Scranton, a dying city, of driving by John Dickson Park, which had _finally_ been torn completely apart, leaving only a concrete asphalt in its place, thinking that she'd see Jim sitting there on its grassy mound, contemplating life, and him not being there, brought out many of her worst qualities. She lashed out at her parents, and at Roger, Cordelia, and Mithra, insisting that they leave, which they did, three days after the funeral. When her Grandma and Grandpa Beesly came from Vermont to visit a few weeks after Jim's funeral, she shouted at them and told them to keep out of her personal business after they asked how Jim was doing. She cursed God daily (Despite being unsure as to whether or not God existed), and became unproductive, unwilling to leave her house, stewing in self-pity, lashing out at those who so much as looked at her whenever she was in the same vicinity as other people.

Pam knew that she was doing the opposite of what Jim wanted her to be doing, that he'd hate to see her bitter and angry, hurting herself and others, and yet… yet it felt _good_ to be angry for a change instead of meek and timid. She actually _liked_ being in the horrible, awful mess she got herself into after Jim died. Her parents suspected that Pam had been letting out a lot of bottled up feelings that she'd kept bottled up over the years and that Jim's death had been the final straw. In desperation, they called Roger and asked him to be Pam's saving grace – and he was.

Roger made the drive out to Scranton and was adamant that Pam come with him to Princeton's annual art convention, insisting that she needed to get away for a while. Pam pitched a fit and refused to pack, but she went. Cordelia and Mithra were at the convention as well, and she found an unlikely ally in Mr. Thiebaud, who'd lost his older brother to Lou Gehrig's Disease several years previous and knew where Pam was coming from. Pam was healing at last – it was happening slowly, but she was drawing again; she hadn't drawn a single picture or sketch since the day before Jim's funeral. All the pictures she drew at the convention were of Jim. She couldn't get him out of her mind, and knew that she'd never be able to.

Although she was getting better, she couldn't return to Scranton, and had no intention to, lest she fall apart all over again. She went back home after the convention to pack, and than was off to begin her studies at the Yale Art School. She knew that most people would think she was being cowardly, not wanting to face Scranton, but Pam could care less – they didn't know her, her situation, what she'd been through, how Jim's death and life without him nearly destroyed her. She attended school year-round, getting two undergraduate degrees, one in Drawing and another in Painting, receiving these degrees in two and a half years as opposed to four, as a result of attending year-round and her A.P. class credits from high school. Pam didn't go to school year-round to get done faster, she went to avoid going home, knowing that she'd fall apart if she returned to Scranton. She insisted that her parents were the ones who needed to visit _her,_and they did, though they often tried to get her to come home for a change.

Pam went on to attend graduate school on the west coast in California, deciding that she needed a change of environment, a need to get away from the east coast. She picked the California Institute of the Arts, where she received her master's degree in Art, once again attending school year-round to keep busy. She thrived in the California environment and loved mingling with artists like herself.

After receiving her master's degree in a year, Pam had no idea what to do with her life, or what kind of career she could have with her degrees. She only knew that she wanted to draw, and become an artist. She also knew that she needed a break, and so she withdrew all her money from her bank account and travelled all over Europe – first to England and France, where she practically lived in the Louvre, and than onto Switzerland, where she stopped at all the same sights Jim had. She also went to Spain and Germany, and spent seven weeks in Australia, retracing Jim's steps along his trip, feeling as though he was right there with her.

After her sojourn in Australia, she bought a small house in Florence Italy, and spent all day painting and sketching, setting her easel out in the front yard at sunrise, and putting it away at sunset. At the time, she was twenty-two years old. One day, she was discovered by Danilo Eccher, the owner and operator of MACRO, one of the largest contemporary art museums in Italy. He loved Pam's work so much that he wanted it hanging in the museum itself. Before Pam knew it, she was signing contracts and standing in the MACRO in front of one of her pieces. The next thing she knew, the Louvre wanted a few of her paintings in their contemporary section of the museum, as did several art museums all over the world. Art books containing her work were being published, and she'd gotten offers for biographies about her to be written, but Pam had declined those thus far. Her newfound fame was surreal at first, but she found herself getting used to it over time.

She wasn't the only one becoming famous – Roger and Cordelia were becoming big names in the art world as well, but Mithra struggled to get her work out. The four of them reunited three years previous in Madrid, Spain – Roger and Cordelia had both sold some of their paintings to a museum there, and Mithra came along for the ride. Cordelia announced that she taking some time off, and left for Asia shortly afterward. She was gone for a year and a half. During that time, Pam and Roger dated, and even considered marriage, but decided that they liked each other better as friends. It took Roger a while before he could date again, but he and Cordelia fell in love and married, having a daughter, Galena, shortly afterward. They're happy, living in Greece, selling their art, doing what they love most, and Pam is happy for them.

Pam thought she was happy too, with her friends, and her art, traveling all over the world doing what she loved, yet something was lacking. A little something called home. She tried brushing it off at first, but whenever she drew, she ended up drawing _Poor Richard's,_ or her old high school, among other things that were apart of Scranton. She couldn't discard the drawings either; she didn't have the heart to do so.

Pam needed closure.

That was the reason why she was in Scranton after ten years, the reason why she now stood on the front porch of her house just after getting off the plane, looking at the Halpert residence across the street from her, holding a folder, filled with all her drawings of Jim over the years. The ones from before Jim got sick, the picture of Jim she submitted to the art contest years ago, the drawings from the funeral and afterwards, printed on nice, quality paper, some colored, some not. Pam's favorite photograph of Jim, of him in the field of yellow roses, was in there as well, along with the same drawing of it. Pam wanted to keep this portfolio of hers, as it was her favorite one and hadn't released it to the public, never having the desire to do so.

But it wasn't hers to keep.

Finally, Pam crossed the street over to the Halpert residence and rang the doorbell.

Would they welcome her into their home after all these years?

Would they be okay with the fact that this would be the first time Pam was visiting them since Jim's death?

Only time would tell.

**II**

Mrs. Halpert answered the door. She was still very short, with the fairest skin and the green eyes that she had passed down to her son. Her face was lined with wrinkles, and her eyes still contained the sad quality to them that hadn't disappeared since Jim died. Her blonde hair was now speckled with gray and white. Mrs. Halpert looked as though she'd spent the past ten years withering away. "Pam," she said, as she reached out to hug her, "So good to see you."

"It's nice to see you too, Mrs. Halpert," Pam returned, as she bent down to hug her. When the two of them let go, she invited Pam inside and led her to the family room. The Halpert family room still looked the same after ten years – it was meticulously clean and tidy, the couch and the recliners still there.

Mrs. Halpert went to the kitchen to prepare lemonade, leaving Pam to take a good look at the family pictures on the entertainment center.

To the left of the television was a large family portrait of the Halpert's. It was taken shortly before Jim's diagnosis. They were at a park, all wearing navy blue and khakis, smiling and laughing, looking happy, not knowing what was to befall them. Just below it was a colored black and white wedding picture of Mr. and Mrs. Halpert on their wedding day, where Mr. Halpert looked exactly like his oldest son, Jared, in his mid twenties, still idealistic, and still carefree. To the right of the television was a black and white picture of Jim at the age of six, with Jared, at the age of twelve. There was a large picture of Jared with his wife, Kara, on their wedding day above the television. They'd gotten married six years ago, after Jared completed medical school. Next to it was a picture of Jared's senior picture, and next to that, was Jim's. It cut Pam fresh again to see it, because it was how she remembered Jim the most. She tried not to cry, and instead looked at the final two pictures to the right of the previous three. One of the pictures appeared to be in a hospital room. It was of Jared and Kara, holding a baby, who turned out to be their son. The final picture was of him, and he was four years old. He bore a striking resemblance to his mother, with the blondest hair, a peachy complexion, high cheekbones and small, delicate lips. He did, however, inherit Jim's green eyes. He was smiling wide, and missing a few teeth.

Pam was looking at the pictures when Mrs. Halpert walked in with the lemonade, along with her husband, who also looked noticeably older, with wrinkles, graying hair and the same, sad eyes. He kept the beard that he had grown during Jim and Pam's senior year of high school. Mr. Halpert noticed that Pam was looking at the pictures when he said, "That would be our grandson on the far right. Jared and Kara named him after Jim, but he tends to go by James, or Jamie."

Pam turned around and said, "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Halpert," before giving him a hug, which Mr. Halpert returned.

The Halpert's and Pam all took a seat on the couch, sipping lemonade, and catching up with each other after ten years. _Cugino's_ was still a successful Italian eatery, and Mr. Halpert's law practice was still thriving. Jared graduated from medical school, where he met Kara. The two were married and completed their residencies before having their son. Pam learned that Jared and his family lived in Pittsburgh, where both Jared and Kara were employed at the University of Pittsburgh's ALS Research Center, and that they visited frequently. Pam then filled the Halpert's in on her career, and her life in Italy.

It was at this point that she had taken the folder out of her purse and laid it on her knees.

"I – I have something for the two of you," she said as she handed the folder to Mr. Halpert. "It's a work that I've compiled over the years. Some of these drawings are several years old, and some of them aren't so great, and yet, they're my favorite. This is my favorite portfolio, one that I've been reluctant to let go of, one that I haven't released to the public... I've – I've never wanted to. I think you'll see why when you open it but… I've held onto this for so long because I didn't want to let it go. But you deserve to have it more than I do."

Mr. Halpert opened the folder tentatively and gasped.

Mr. and Mrs. Halpert looked at the portfolio quietly, analyzing each picture and flipping through them slowly. Tears were in Mrs. Halpert's eyes as she gently touched them. "You drew all these?" she asked.

Pam nodded.

"Pam, it's wonderful," Mr. Halpert said, his voice heavy. "This obviously took a lot of effort… I know you've heard it before, and it's quite obvious with how far your career has taken off, but you… you do have talent."

Pam had some tears in her eyes too. She wiped them away hastily and replied, "Thank you."

"No, thank _you,_ Pam," Mrs. Halpert said. "You really helped Jim out in the last year of his life. You made things more bearable for him, and for us." She paused before continuing again. "At times, I don't know how we would've gotten through that year without you."

"I don't know how I survived that year," Pam admitted. "I… I think that was a hard year for all of us, but it was the hardest after Jim left… that's why I haven't been back here until now."

"We understand," Mr. Halpert said quietly. "We've even thought about moving away from here too."

"_Really?"_ Pam asked, shocked that Mr. and Mrs. Halpert would consider leaving behind the city where their son's final resting place was just a few minutes from them.

"Sure," Mr. Halpert replied, "My son may be dead, but he's everywhere here. There's no escaping him… it's overwhelming at times, and Larissa and I came really close to putting our house on the market – "

"We called the realtor and everything," she interjected, "But we couldn't do it. Jared would never forgive us…"

"It's more than that," Mr. Halpert said. "We'd never forgive ourselves if we did it."

"So… you understand why I couldn't stay here?" Pam hesitated. The reason why she'd been so scared of visiting Jim's parents in the first place was because she feared that they wouldn't understand her reason for leaving Scranton and never returning until now. But it seemed like they understood – she hoped they did.

Mrs. Halpert nodded. "We do."

"Do – do you forgive me for leaving?"

"There's no need to apologize for it."

**III**

Pam felt relieved, knowing that Jim's parents knew where she was coming from, and that they, too had considered leaving Scranton at one point. Most people would consider their now defunct plans to leave Scranton unfathomable, especially since their son was laid to rest there, but Pam understood. She didn't feel that one could understand _her_ reason for leaving, as well as their plans to, unless they actually knew Jim at one point.

After leaving the Halpert residence, she drove throughout Scranton, familiarizing herself once again with the city. For the most part, it looked the same, but she was happy to see that John Dickson Park, the place where some of her favorite memories with Jim occurred, had been rebuilt, complete with brand new playground equipment – slides, swing sets, monkey bars, a carousel, spring riders, spinners, climbers, the seesaw, and the sandbox, in the brightest colors. Pam was also happy to see that the neighborhood was no longer deserted. She watched from her car as children on the playground ran around joyfully, laughing and enjoying the playground. Parents sat on the benches, cheering their children on.

"I wish Jim could see this," Pam said quietly, as she drove past the playground, thinking about the Christmas present he'd given her so many years ago. "This would make him so happy."

After driving past the playground, she came across the same, grassy knoll that she and Jim spent many of their days on, talking about their hopes and dreams for the future. She parked the car and got out, sat on the knoll, and looked up at the bright blue sky for a few moments, taking in the sunshine and the sights around her – the sites of growth and rebirth. She turned her head to the right of her and gasped. A young boy, who looked around seven years of age, was staring up at the sky pensively, as if he was thinking deeply about something. He had light, floppy brown hair, the most vivid green eyes and a contagious grin; Pam had to do a double take, but came to the conclusion that it was a coincidence before getting back into her car and driving away from John Dickson Park.

**IV**

The Forest Hill Cemetery was the same as Pam remembered it ten years ago, as well as the feelings she first felt when she was there. She didn't want to feel those feelings, and she felt nervous, as she walked over to where Jim's headstone was, and stood there momentarily before speaking.

"Hey you," she said, as she traced the name on the headstone, _James Duncan Halpert,_ delicately with her fingertips. "I've missed you so much. I know that this is my first time in years, but I know you'd understand why I couldn't come back here, to visit you, or come back to Scranton, for a long time. You're everywhere in Scranton, and back then, the only way to escape it was to get away; and that's what I did, and it worked for a while, but I couldn't stay away from here forever. Not unless I could live without receiving closure, and I couldn't do that. I wanted to deny that I needed to come back here, but I couldn't. I kept putting it off, coming up with excuses as to why I should be here, but now I know why.

"Even though healing and finding closure over this whole ordeal has taken a long time, I want to you know that I'm doing it, healing, finding closure, and that maybe… just maybe, I'm getting better at it. When you first died, I was so sure that I wouldn't be able to get over your death, that I wouldn't be able to deal with it… I still have my bad days, but most of my days have been some of most fulfilling. When someone you truly love dies, I don't think you can ever get over that, but you learn how to deal with it, and I think that's what I'm doing… life without you is different, Halpert, and for the longest time, it was extremely dreary. I head no idea what I'd do without you by my side…"

Pam sighed, finally feeling relaxed, before continuing. "Life has not been unfulfilling for me, Jim. Before you left, you taught me many things. You taught me how to live. How to laugh. How to love. You've given me the best friendship one could ever ask for, and I appreciate it….it means more than you'll ever know. You've helped shaped me into the person I am today, and I love you so much for it."

"I love you, Jim. _So much._ I love you more than you'll ever know," Pam whispered softly, putting a bouquet of large, yellow roses at the foot of his headstone. She pressed her fingertips to her mouth, kissing them gently before tracing them along his name. She turned around and walked from the headstone, and even though tears were falling down her cheeks, they weren't of sadness or mourning.

Pam drove back to her parents' house, feeling peaceful and content. She saw her parents earlier this morning before going over to the Halpert's house, but it'd been a while since she actually talked to them face to face, as opposed to on the phone or through e-mail. She smiled slightly, looking forward to the lunch date she planned with the two of them.

After parking her car and walking up to the porch, Pam noticed the yellow rosebushes that were planted in the Halpert's front yard. She smiled as her parents joined her on the porch.

All around her, Jim's laughter penetrated the sky, and she knew that he was with her.

Always.


End file.
